


we could turn the world to gold

by thetolkiengeek



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Banter, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Happy Ending, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance and Keith try to find meaning in their lives, Lance drives a Jeep Cherokee because i said so, Light Angst, M/M, Mid-20s Angst, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Native American Krolia, Orphan Keith (Voltron), POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Sharing a Bed, Shiro is kind of a conniving little shit, Slow-ish burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, because why not, broganes, but not while driving, but still, don't drink and drive kids, drunk klance, gratuitous references to road trip tropes, happy endings only y’all, i really rolled out the projector for this one folks, indie movie feel, jk there might be a bit more angst than intended, lots and lots of klance banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18482311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetolkiengeek/pseuds/thetolkiengeek
Summary: At twenty-four, Lance isn't where he'd expected to be, working some mindless job at a decent company, bored out of his mind and trying not to feel like the tedium was slowly choking him to death. So when he gets the opportunity to transfer to a position all the way out in California, he jumps at the chance. With all his life packed in his car, he's ready to leave.But then, Shiro calls in a favor, and suddenly he's got an unexpected guest on his grand, solo, cross-country road trip. He and Keith could barely stand to be in the same room together in college, and he doubts that three years apart will have made a huge difference. But being stuck in a car for days on end with his ex-rival leads to some unexpected discoveries, on both sides.---Or, the Road Trip AU that no one asked for.





	1. stuck in my head, stuck on my heart

**Author's Note:**

> So this AU popped into my head a couple of months ago and just wouldn't leave me alone. I was originally going to try and post this as a oneshot, but as anyone who is familiar with me knows, my AUs tend to get a bit...out of hand. I've been working on this since the end of January, and I've got about 20k written so far, and I anticipate another 10k. I've just been staring at it for so long, and I've been desperate to share this with you, so here we are! 
> 
> Last September, I drove across the country with my dad to move to California for grad school, and it was one of the best experiences of my life. Honestly, America is a beautiful country, and there's a special kind of magic to road trips that I hope I captured at least a little bit. 
> 
> As always, a big thank you to Dani, light of my life, platonic soulmate, and this time, beta. You can find her at [snowthunder](https://snowthunder.tumblr.com) on tumblr and [snowthunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowthunder/pseuds/snowthunder) here on AO3. You may also know her as the co-author to our beach AU [Salty Kisses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992508). Also keep an eye out. She's got a kickass solo fic coming out in the next couple of months that you definitely don't want to miss.
> 
> [Here's](https://open.spotify.com/user/12130135307/playlist/7IMbXh4RvZ0q02Cjyfaatv?si=4778Rs5qR0mgtqmlNWEU8A) the fic playlist, if you so desire. Mostly radio friendly indie/alt, with some road trip classics thrown in. 
> 
> Title from Carly Rae Jepsen's Run Away With Me. Because why not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One

**Day One**

When Shiro had approached him about a favor, Lance hadn’t hesitated to say yes. After all, between the incidents of sloppy drunkenness and countless study sheets, Shiro had almost single-handedly saved his life on multiple occasions. Now, however, standing in Shiro’s driveway, looking this favor in the face, he wished he’d at least  asked what it was before agreeing.

“No,” he said, quite emphatically. “Absolutely not. I refuse to be stuck with your asshole of a brother on a  _ cross-country road trip _ !”

“Lance, you promised,” Shiro pleaded, holding Keith’s one duffel in his hand and looking woefully pathetic. “It’s not even out of your way.”

“No, no,  _ no _ . You stop it with those puppy eyes. Shirogane, I swear to god--”

“Leave it, Shiro,” Keith said, crossing his arms and frowning at the ground. “He clearly doesn’t want to.”

“See?! Even Keith agrees!”

“Lance,” Shiro said sternly, and Lance groaned.

“Okay, listen, you remember us in undergrad. We could barely stand being in the same room together for five minutes, what on earth makes you think we would even make it past the state line?”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose over his scar and sighed deeply. “Lance,  _ please _ . You know I don’t call in favors very often.”

Lance sighed, kicking at a small rock at his feet. “Don’t pull the guilt trip, man, because then this whole thing is gonna be a capital-G Guilt Trip and Keith and I are gonna kill each other on the side of the road in the middle of Texas, and you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself.”

“Hey, you just implied that you could make it all the way to Texas,” Shiro said, grinning as he clearly found a weakness in Lance’s resolve.

Lance worked his jaw, his eyes sliding from Shiro to Keith, who was still standing with his arms crossed, refusing to look at Lance.

Lance wasn’t lying when he said he and Keith did  _ not _ get along. They’d been in the same program as undergrads, and Shiro, Lance’s TA in Intro to Astronomy at the time, had decided to introduce them, hoping that maybe they could work on their final project together. Needless to say, it did not go well.

That night ended with Keith dumping his iced coffee on Lance’s head after Lance spite-deleted all their work because Keith was “taking all the credit.” 

Since then, despite Shiro and Pidge’s best efforts, any mutual hangouts required being on opposite sides of the room and under no circumstances were they to be left alone with access to MarioKart. Lance still hadn’t figured out how they had managed to get the Wii controller embedded in the TV, but Pidge had never let them near their console ever again.

Now, looking at Keith, Lance reminded himself that it had been a good three years since he’d really seen Keith, and Lance had become a very different person in that time. There was no reason Keith couldn’t have matured a little on his own, too.

His physique certainly had, what with that razor-sharp jawline and broad shoulders. He’d be good eye candy at the very least.

And Lance really had promised... 

“Okay, fine,” he said finally, and Shiro lit up like a Christmas tree.

Lance wasn’t looking at him, though. He was busy staring at Keith, whose head had shot up, jaw dropping.

“You can come with me,” Lance said, “but there are gonna be a few ground rules.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Of course there are.”

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor here, Mullet,” Lance said. “Anyone ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Keith glared. “I don’t have a mullet anymore.”

Lance gave Keith's hair an appreciative look. He'd forsaken the jagged, uneven, long-haired look for a sleek undercut, though the longer hair on top of his head was just as unruly as ever. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” he said, “but I think we need to focus on the fact that you just admitted it  _ was _ a mullet.” 

Keith scoffed and grabbed his duffel from Shiro’s hands, tossing it unceremoniously into the back seat of Lance’s car on top of the various cardboard boxes and suitcases that wouldn’t fit in the trunk.

“Sure, Keith, go ahead,” Lance muttered, “just throw your stuff all over my precious family heirlooms, it’s not like I’m trying to move across the country and have breakables with me.”

“Oh no, your scented candles,” Keith deadpanned before trying the handle on the passenger side.

Lance smirked as Keith tried and failed to open the door, jiggling the handle. 

“Lance—“

He held up the key, clicking the lock button a few times for emphasis. 

Keith threw up his hands. 

“Lance…” Shiro warned. 

“Ugh, fine.” 

Lance made a show of clicking the unlock button, and Keith climbed in, slamming the door shut behind him. 

With Keith safely out of earshot, Lance turned to Shiro, ready to beg and plead his way out of this, but one look at Shiro’s distressed face and Lance found himself swallowing his words. 

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Shiro said. “I know it’s not exactly the solo road trip you had planned.”

Lance scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, at least now I’ve got another driver.”

“You’d let Keith drive your car?”

“That reckless adrenaline junkie? Oh hell no. But I’ll let him think it for a few states anyway.”

Shiro laughed and shook his head before leaning in for a hug. “You’re a good person, Lance.”

Lance squeezed back. There weren’t many things he was going to miss about Georgia, but Shiro was definitely one of them. “At this point, I’m a fucking saint, and you know it.”

“That you are.” Shiro began walking backwards up the driveway towards his house. “And hey, it’s been a while, you really should give him another chance. Keith just might surprise you.”

“I already know he sleeps with a knife under his pillow, so I doubt it,” Lance said, giving Shiro a final, two-fingered salute before opening the car door. 

Or, at least he tried to. 

He looked over to see a smirking Keith with his finger poised over the lock button. 

Lance rolled his eyes and unlocked the car with his keys, climbing in one practiced movement into the driver’s seat. “You’re a little shit, you know that right?”

“Takes one to know one,” Keith said, altogether too smug for Lance’s taste. 

He shook his head and stuck the key in the ignition, turning the engine over and starting the car, listening to the familiar rumble. 

His car was his prized possession. It had been a gift from his older brother Marco, a hand me down, but one that Lance cherished nonetheless. As one of the youngest children, he didn’t get much that hadn’t already been owned by his older siblings, and this was no exception. But when Marco needed something a little smaller for his work, he had offered Lance his dark blue Jeep Cherokee, and Lance had pounced on the opportunity. 

Suddenly, he didn’t have to fight with his sister over the radio, or be late for guitar lessons because his mom had to drop Veronica off at robotics club first. He did have to take his baby sister and cousins to dance practice, but honestly that was more of a joy than anything else.

It was freedom, in a word. And boy, did Lance covet it. He had recently saved up for a new stereo system, and though the A/C still rattled, otherwise Blue ran like a dream. 

So when, not two minutes into his journey, he saw Keith putting his feet up on the dash, boots and all, he felt perfectly justified in his response. 

“Jesus fuck, Keith, were you raised in a barn?! Put your fucking feet down!”

He reached over and, without taking his eyes off the road, slapped at Keith’s general direction. 

“Okay, okay,” Keith said, flinching away. “I get it, you don’t have to slap me.”

“Rule number one, Mullet, respect the vehicle—and that means no feet on the dash.”

Lance didn’t have to look to know Keith was rolling his eyes. “Christ, would you calm down? I won’t do it again.”

“Good.”

Lance turned out of Shiro’s neighborhood and onto the street that would lead them to the highway. A silence fell over the car and Lance had been trying to figure out if it was unbearably awkward or not when Keith reached for the radio. 

Lance slapped his hand away with the lightning-fast reflexes of an older sibling. 

“Rule two—I maintain control over the radio at all times.”

“No.”

Lance rolled to a stop at the red light and turned to give Keith an incredulous expression. “Excuse me?”

“I remember your music taste, Lance, and I don’t care how much of a ‘bop’ you think ‘New Rules’ is. I’m not about to sit through seventy hours of bubblegum pop nonsense.”

The light turned green, and Lance sped through the intersection, a derisive sneer on his lips. “I’ll kick you out of this car before you play one second of that outdated rock boredom you call music.”

Keith crossed his arms. “The Stones are classic for a reason. Not like you’d recognize good taste if it punched you in the face.”

“At least then I’d be awake,” Lance replied primly, turning onto the on-ramp. 

“It’s called rock n’ roll for a reason. It’s not boring.”

Lance quieted as he glanced out his window and merged expertly onto the highway, sliding in between two pickups. He sighed deeply at the Confederate flag decal on the back of the big black truck in front of them, but there wasn’t much he could do other than frown. Like he had said before, there really wasn’t much about Georgia he was going to miss.

Keith evidently took Lance’s silence for some kind of acquiescence, because he reached for the radio again. 

“Nuh-uh. No, no, no. No you don’t. My road trip, my music. End of story.”

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

“Well I can guarantee, if you put on classic rock I  _ will _ fall asleep and we  _ will _ crash and die. Is that what you want?”

“And if  _ you _ put on Ariana Grande I’m going to tear this radio out and throw it out the window.”

Lance ground his teeth. Honestly, the nerve of this guy. He hadn’t seen him for three whole years and he just randomly decided to crash  _ his _ road trip and keep him from playing the playlist he had so painstakingly cultivated over the entire summer for this very purpose. 

He had no doubts that Keith would do it, though. He’d yank out the beautiful new stereo without a second thought. 

“There’s gotta be a middle ground here somewhere, because I refuse to be music-less with only your subpar conversational skills to keep me company,” Lance said. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Keith pinching the bridge of his nose in a rather Shiro-like gesture. 

“The Beatles?”

“Nope. Madonna?”

“Hell no. The Eagles?”

“I’d rather be fucked by a cactus. Pat Benatar?”

“Closer, but no. How about Led Zeppelin?”

“My brother had a ‘Stairway to Heaven’ phase when he was trying to learn guitar and now I’m conditioned to tear my hair out everytime I hear it.”

Keith sighed, throwing his head back on the seat. “Goddammit Lance, is there anything you don’t hate?”

“From your music library? Unlikely.” And then, Lance paused, a very distant, very fuzzy memory of a drunken karaoke session tugging at his mind. “What about Queen?”

Keith was quiet, and then, softly, “I could do Queen.”

Lance glanced over at Keith just to make sure he wasn’t kidding. “Yeah?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, Queen’s good.”

Lance handed the aux cord over to Keith. “Then queue up the Queen, my dude.”

***

Lance had been hoping that maybe, just maybe, the fact that they agreed on  _ something _ was a sign that he and Keith were going to get along just fine, that his fears that the next several days were going to be tortuous and horribly awkward and full of meaningless arguments, were unfounded. 

Boy howdy was he wrong. 

They were barely out of the state, and they’d managed to fight about pretty much  _ everything _ .

Where to stop for gas, where to pee (“ _ Those require two completely different venues, Keith! _ ”), which drive-thru to hit, appropriate road trip snacks, whether or not Lance should actually be in the left lane.

“Dude, I’m telling you, stop at Love’s,” Keith said, gesturing at the blue highway sign advertising the gas station.

“And I’m telling you, not gonna happen. There’s no way in hell I’m going to a place called Love’s. It’s probably covered in Hepatitis.”

“You’re impossible,” Keith groaned, crossing his arms and sitting huffily back in the seat.

“I think you mean impassable,” Lance replied.

“If you keep camping your slow ass in the left lane where no one can pass you, then yes.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s a reference to  _ Alice in Wonderland _ , you philistine, and I’ll have you know I am driving well above the speed limit here.”

 “Five miles is not ‘well above’ and everyone on this road, including me, hates you.”

“You say that like I care,” Lance scoffed, though he flicked on his blinker and slid into the middle lane.

To be perfectly honest, Keith’s words cut deeper than he was letting on. It was no secret that they didn’t get along, and the first couple hours of this trip alone spoke to the fact that three years apart really hadn’t changed much between them. But Lance never thought that they hated each other, not really.

Keith probably didn’t mean it beyond commenting on Lance’s driving, but it didn’t stop Lance from dwelling.

He sighed and signalled, veering off onto the exit.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked as Lance followed the signs.

“Going to Love’s,” Lance said. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Keith snorted. “You’re so magnanimous.”

Lance decided not to dignify that with a response, instead pulling onto the sparse stretch of road with the only true landmark being this miraculous gas station that supposedly was good for snacks  _ and _ had consistently clean bathrooms. 

“There’s nothing else here,” Lance murmured as he pulled up to the pump.

“Hmm?” Keith unclicked his seatbelt.

“The road is empty,” Lance said. “Usually there’s like...five billion fast food places, and it all looks the same no matter where in the country you are. You know, American Gothic. This is just plain cursed.”

“You think everything is cursed,” Keith huffed. “I’m going inside for snacks. You want anything?”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but Keith held up a hand.

“Do  _ not _ say sour cream and onion because that’s not going to happen.”

“You’re no fun,” Lance pouted as he cut the engine and popped the gas cap. “At least get me an Arizona Iced Tea?”

Keith rolled his eyes and nodded before shoving out of the car.

Lance opened the door and climbed out into the late August heat, relishing the opportunity to stretch his limbs. They’d only been driving a few hours at that point, but he figured they shouldn’t push it this early in the trip. California was a long way away, after all. 

He watched as Keith stomped towards the store in his red combat boots. How he stood to wear those in this heat was beyond Lance--though he really couldn’t remember a time when Keith wasn’t wearing those monstrosities. He wouldn’t be surprised if he slept in them.

Lance shifted his gaze towards the numbers on the pump, wondering how much gas would be in California, if he’d actually be able to afford it. 

It hadn’t been easy, deciding to leave basically everything he’d ever known. Though his family was originally from Cuba, they’d moved to Florida when he was young, and then when he was twelve his dad had gotten a job in Atlanta, and he’d lived there ever since. He had even stayed in state for school, where he’d met Shiro, Keith, Pidge, and Hunk. 

After graduating, he’d gotten a job at a tech company in the city, and he’d decided to pull a true millennial move and stay with his parents. It had seemed like the right thing at the time--he could stick around to see his younger sister graduate, keep in touch with Pidge and Hunk, who had both gotten research positions at one of the big universities in the area, and even occasionally go visit Shiro in one of the nearby suburbs. 

For a while, it was fine. Great, even. But an itch had settled under his skin and the air had felt too thick, and what once had been comforting quickly became stifling. He loved his family, he really did, and he’d do anything for them, just…

The pump clicked and startled Lance out of his reverie. He shook his head, clearing away the weight of his thoughts. He’d made his decision--he was moving to California and starting at the San Francisco office in a better position. That was all that mattered.

He twisted the gas cap back on and clicked the cover shut, locking the car doors before heading into the station.

Whatever he was expecting from a gas station called Love’s, this wasn’t it. It was a large building, clean, bright cheery signs indicating that the showers in the back were vacant.

Color Lance impressed.

Not that he’d ever tell Keith that.

Lance peered around and caught a glimpse of the telltale mop of messy hair in the curved security mirror hanging in the corner. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, leaving him in the chip aisle and heading towards the bathroom.

And okay, Keith was right. Those were clean, too.

He walked out to see Keith with an armful of snacks stomping his way to the counter--because Keith always stomped everywhere, as long as Lance had known him, seemingly incapable of walking normally.

He snuck up behind him, a wicked grin pulling at his mouth, and poked him in the side. Keith jumped, squirming away.

“What the hell, Lance?!”

Lance doubled over, laughing even as Keith hit him with a glare that should have vaporized him on the spot. 

Keith slid a giant green can of iced tea and a bag of chips to his side of the counter. “If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can pay for your own snacks.”

Lance pulled himself together enough, wiping at his eyes for comedic effect before looking down and gasping at the familiar green bag of Lays. “Keith, you do care!”

Keith hit him with an unimpressed look as he handed the cashier a five dollar bill.

“Can you not be a drama queen for like...five minutes? That’d be nice.”

“Can you not be a stick in the mud for like...five minutes? That’d be nice.” Lance quipped, pulling out his own wallet and handing a wad of singles to the very tired cashier. 

Lance counted it as a victory that Keith didn’t respond, just frowned before grabbing their snacks and pushing out the door. 

Lance shrugged and followed, unlocking the car and climbing in, starting the engine and getting the air going again. 

Keith was quiet as Lance pulled out of the station and made his way back to the highway, and the only sounds in the car were the crinkle of the chip bag and Queen’s “I Want It All” playing at half volume.

“So,” Lance said, turning down the music when he had successfully found himself in the flow of traffic once more. “As much as I love road trip snacks, I’m getting hungry for, like, real food. You wanna stop at--wait.”

Lance did a double take as safely as he could.

“Are you eating...pickle flavored chips?”

Keith shrugged and popped another one in his mouth. “Yeah.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Hang on, you gave me shit for sour cream and onion--which is a completely acceptable chip flavor, I might add--and you’re eating  _ dill pickle-flavored chips _ ?!”

“Yup,” Keith said, continuing like there was absolutely nothing strange about pickle-flavored chips. “Now what were you saying about real food? Because I could really go for a sandwich right about now.”

“I--” Lance shook his head. “We’re coming back to this, mark my words--jesus are you licking the inside of the bag?! Keith what the actual  _ fuck _ ?!”

Keith looked up from where he had torn open the bag along the side and shrugged.

“Okay, you know what, forget I asked. I don’t want to know.” Lance refocused on the road in front of him, shifting his hands on the wheel. “But yeah, I don’t really want to  _ stop  _ stop, but if we’re gonna get to Louisiana by dinner, I’m gonna need milkshakes and fries. So, Mr. I-Have-a-Wrong-Opinion-on-Everything, you got a preference for where we go?”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. I-Hate-All-Good-Music,” Keith said. 

“Hey hey hey, we both like Queen, so you can just step off.”

Keith snorted, ducking his head, but then he fell oddly quiet, the only sound being his fingernail tapping on the door and the occasional whisper of Freddie Mercury hitting some insane high note. 

“Keith?”

Lance glanced over to see Keith biting his lip.

“Okay, so feel free to revoke my gay card or shame me all the way to New Mexico but...I just really want Chick-fil-A.”

“Oh thank god, me too,” Lance said, giving a half-nervous, half-relieved laugh.

“Why the fuck does it taste so good?!”

“Those waffle fries?”

“With the Polynesian sauce?”

Lance very nearly crashed the car he was laughing so hard.

“We’re horrible people,” Keith said. “We’re bad gays.”

“We’re going to the Bad Place, for sure,” Lance said even as he scanned the highway markers for the Chick-fil-A logo.

“You wanna borrow my rainbow bracelet to wear when you’re paying?”

“Hell yeah.”

***

“I’m gonna cry,” Lance said, staring at the closed sign in abject horror. 

“I can’t believe we forgot it’s Sunday.”

“I don’t think I’ve felt this disappointed since my brother put an empty box of Oreos back in the pantry.”

Keith laughed, a bright tinkling sound, and Lance startled. He didn’t think he’d ever heard such a gentle, genuine sound from Keith before. 

“At least we won’t be eating sandwiches made with Gay Guilt.”

“Yeah we’ll hit McDonald’s and have sandwiches made with regular guilt instead,” Lance said, pulling out of the parking lot and across the street to the neighboring drive thru. 

“Regular guilt it is.”

***

Fifteen minutes and ten bucks later they found themselves back on the road, milkshakes and non-waffle fries in hand.

“I can’t believe you got plain vanilla,” Lance said, working the lid off of his own milkshake without taking his eyes off the road. 

“I can’t believe you’re dipping your fries in a vanilla-chocolate swirl.”

Lance shook his head, tutting. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, Mullet.”

“No thanks, I’ll stick to ketchup. You know, like a normal person.”

Lance grabbed a fry, dipping it in the shake, and lifting it up to wave in Keith’s general direction. “Come on. Just try it. I know you’ll like it.”

“That’s what they said about me and girls. And yet.”

Lance laughed. “I”ll admit, that’s a compelling argument. But seriously, just try the fry.”

“No.”

“Try the fry, Keith.”

“Lance, no!”

“Tryyyyy the fryyyyyy.”

Lance leaned over a little farther in his seat, bringing the now soggy fry dangerously close to Keith’s nose. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, McClain, if I eat the fry will you please get your eyes back on the goddamn road!”

Keith plucked the offending potato out of Lance’s hand and popped it into his mouth. “Disgusting. Now get your hands back to ten and two or so help me--”

“Alright, alright!” Lance conceded, putting his hands back on the steering wheel. “When did Mr. Motorcycle turn into such a safety nut?”

Keith fell quiet, and Lance risked a glance in his direction, surprised to see Keith hunched over, arms crossed over his chest, looking uncharacteristically small.

“Keith?”

“I sold the motorcycle.”

“You did what?!”

“I. Sold. The. Motorcycle,” Keith said, enunciating each word through slightly clenched teeth.

“But why?”

Keith loved that thing. Lance remembered the day he got it--he remembered the way Keith took to it like a duck to water, if ducks were smoking hot boys in vintage leather jackets whose violet eyes sparkled when even just talking about it.

The image of Keith straddling the bike and knocking up the kickstand had been burned permanently into his mind like a brand.

“I-got-in-an-accident-okay.”

Lance blinked. “You what?”

“I got in an accident,” Keith said, this time slower, “and it really scared me. It wasn’t bad--I didn’t even break anything--but it was close. So I sold the bike.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance could see that Keith was still hunched over, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

“Well,” Lance said finally, smirking a little bit, “good riddance. That thing was ugly as fuck.”

“Red was a beauty, and you know it!”

“Oh I wasn’t talking about the bike,  _ that _ was sexy--I meant that ridiculous thing you called a helmet. Flames? Really, Keith?”

Even though he wasn’t looking, Lance could tell Keith was pouting. 

“It was on sale,” he said quietly.

Lance laughed.

***

“Rule three is that you can’t make the car dance.”

“Rule three, only I can make the rules,” Lance said, jiggling the steering wheel just a little bit more to the beat of “Another One Bites The Dust”.

“Seriously Lance. Unless you want to be cleaning up puke in approximately two minutes, I’d make it a rule.”

The car stilled.

“Fine. It can be rule five.”

“You mean four.”

“No, I mean five.”

Lance could hear the angry breath Keith took, though he liked to think that it was actually him trying to stabilize his stomach or something. “And what, pray tell, is rule four?”

“Hmm…”

Truthfully, Lance hadn’t thought of anything--he mostly wanted to see just how many buttons of Keith’s he could still push. He cast about for something.

“Well, I was gonna say that Rule Four is that you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me, but you’d probably fail. Let’s face it, I’m irresistible.”

Keith snorted. “You stole that from  _ A Walk to Remember _ .”

“ _ Brooklyn Nine-Nine _ actually, but now I know you like romcoms.”

“I mean, yeah,” Keith said matter-of-factly. “They’re my favorite kind of movies.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “No. There’s no fucking way that Keith ‘I once punched a kid in the face for looking at me wrong’ Kogane likes romcoms.”

“I never punched anyone! I don’t know why you keep insisting I did. And anyway, they’re cute and happy, and I like them.”

“Why are you telling me this? Won’t this ruin your tough guy image?”

“Oh I’m not worried. No one will believe you, anyway.”

“Okay  _ that _ you took from  _ Brooklyn Nine-Nine. _ ”

***

“Why the fuck would you use Google maps?!”

“What’s wrong with Google maps?! You asked me to find the nearest Seven-Eleven and I did!”

“What’s wro--” Lance gestured out the windshield, to the rapidly approaching exit and the two lanes of heavy traffic in between.

“Just fucking get over!”

“Yeah, let me just phase through all these cars using my telekinetic superpowers!”

They flew by the exit, and Lance mourned its passing. “Goodbye Slurpees.”

“You could have made that.”

“Who’s the driver here? Oh, right, me.”

“Whatever,” Keith said. “I just don’t want to hear you complaining the whole time that we didn’t get Slurpees and how it’s my fault.”

“But we  _ didn’t  _ get Slurpees and it  _ is  _ your fault.”

***

_ Is this the real life? _

_ Is this just fantasy? _

_ Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality _ .

Lance peered over to see Keith intently examining his nail beds, decidedly  _ not _ singing. Who didn’t sing along to “Bohemian Rhapsody”? 

Keith was an alien. That was the only explanation for how he resisted the siren call of the nonsensical lyrics. He was an alien that planned to make Lance’s life miserable with awkward silences.

Well, two could play at that game. He’d once sat down for the entirety of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” just to prove a point to his sister. He’d outlast this. 

***

Keith made it all the way to the “Galileo”s before he broke.

He probably hadn’t even meant to sing out loud, but Lance heard the little breath, the descending notes.

Lance smiled. Maybe Keith was human after all. 

He took a deep breath and, “ _ Magnifico-o-o-o _ .”

***

_ Anyway the wind blows… _

The last notes of what had to be the fourth repeat of “Bohemian Rhapsody” trailed off as they cruised through Louisiana. 

Lance sighed contentedly, turning down the music. 

“Alright, Mullet, that was enough fun that it almost made me forget about your truly heinous taste in road trip snacks.”

“I’m not going to apologize for pickle chips.”

“I mean, you really should. Quite frankly, they’re offensive.”

Keith hit him with an unimpressed look. “Yes, please keep insulting my taste in everything. It’s a great way to make me like you.”

Lance waved a hand vaguely. “Whatever, we just shared a Queen singalong sesh, we’re clearly past all that.”

“Uh huh.”

He threw down the visor to block out the late afternoon sun. “Anyway, feelings on driving for another hour and then finding a non-sketch motel to crash at for the night?”

Keith shrugged. “Sure?”

“Bitchin’.”

Keith peered at Lance. “Did you just say ‘bitchin’’ unironically?”

“I’ve been driving all day, give me a break. And I might have been rewatching  _ Stranger Things 2 _ before we left.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Of course you were.”

***

The town they stopped in was a classic highway stop. Small, friendly but in that vaguely threatening way, like they’d probably uncover a murder if they overstayed their welcome. 

The motel looked clean and safe though, and that was all that mattered. 

Lance walked up to the woman working at the desk, Keith stomping in behind him, and asked for a room. She gave the two of them a long look that Lance couldn’t decipher—they probably didn’t get a lot of through traffic—and handed them an honest to god metal key. 

Lance took the key and gave her a winning smile. “So, any recommendations for dinner?”

She directed them to a little hole in the wall across the street, and Lance thanked her before dragging Keith back outside into the muggy Louisiana air. 

The place was not the most glamorous—all the tables were covered in those cheap vinyl red checkered tablecloths and the utensils were plastic—but damn was the food good. 

Lance had practically moaned when he took a bite of his po-boy, and Keith had seemed pretty content with his burger. 

They sat in silence for a bit, enjoying their food and the fact that they weren’t sitting in the car anymore. Lance revelled in the feeling of actually being able to stretch his legs out underneath the table. 

“So,” he said finally, taking a sip of his root beer, “I guess I should probably ask where exactly you’re going so we can figure out the best way to get there.”

Keith’s head tilted. “Shiro didn’t tell you?”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Shiro didn’t tell me jack shit. He just asked me for a favor and told me to stop by his house before I left the state.”

“And you didn’t think that was weird?”

Lance shrugged. “I wanted to say goodbye, and anyway, I owed the guy. Though I’m pretty sure driving you all the way across the fucking country clears most of my debt.”

He wasn’t sure what response he’d expected from Keith—maybe a sardonic laugh or a wry smile, or more probably a jab at Lance’s driving. He certainly hadn’t expected Keith to hit him with his piercing stare, his indigo eyes looking deep and contemplative. 

“What?”

“Thank you, Lance,” Keith said finally. “I mean it. Shiro kind of sprung this on you last minute, and I know I’m not exactly your favorite person in the world. So, thanks. For taking me.”

Lance’s jaw was on the floor. Maybe he’d judged Keith too soon—the Keith from three years ago certainly would not have thanked him for so much as lending him a pencil. Lance wasn’t sure what to do with this new, respectful Keith. 

Truth be told, although Lance had put up a pretty big show pretending like he wouldn’t take Keith, part of him was really relieved he’d had someone there. Originally, Veronica had planned to come with him and fly back to Atlanta, but she couldn’t get the vacation days in time, and nobody else could afford to vanish for a week. So he’d played up the “solo roadtrip” angle, pretending it was what he’d wanted all along. 

But the sense of relief he’d felt when he realized he didn’t have to drive it all alone, even if his passenger was infuriatingly anti-social—Lance didn’t know what he’d have done otherwise. 

“You’re welcome,” Lance said quietly. “But,” he continued, louder this time, “I still have no idea where you’re going.”

“Oh, right,” Keith said. “I’m, um, well...I’m going to see my birth mom. In Arizona.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “You found your birth mom?”

“More like she found me. I got an email from my old social worker saying she’d gotten in contact and wanted to see if I’d be willing to talk.”

“That’s amazing!” Lance grinned and gave Keith’s foot an encouraging kick. 

Keith looked away, his eyes trained instead on a stain on the tablecloth. 

“Keith?”

“Yeah. Amazing.” He looked up then, and Lance could see the war behind his eyes. 

“You...don’t sound thrilled.”

Keith shrugged, tracing the stain with his fingers, over and over and over. “What am I supposed to sound like? She left me with my dad before I was barely even two weeks old, and  _ now  _ she wants to reconnect?”

Lance frowned. “Then...then why are you even going?”

Keith shrugged again. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Shiro’s married now, so living with him and Adam is just...weird. And it’s not like I had planned to get stuck in Georgia in the first place--I always meant to leave, you know that.”

To his surprise, Lance  _ did  _ know that. Though he never pretended to know Keith well, he’d always known he had one foot out the door at all times. It was one of the few things they could agree on--getting the hell out of Dodge. Keith dropping out of undergrad had just seemed par for the course, and Lance was honestly shocked to learn that Keith was still in the state, let alone the Atlanta area. 

“So you’re meeting your mom because you’re bored?”

Keith rolled his eyes, brushing it off, though his next words held enough venom that Lance knew he’d hit on something big.

“I don’t see how it’s any different from what you’re doing. You had a good job. A family, friends who care about you. Why else would you leave all that?”

“Don’t see--I’m going for  _ work _ . Not running away again in some pointless attempt to find meaning in my life.”

“Don’t try and pretend you know anything about my life,” Keith spat.

“Oh please,” Lance said. “You’re easy to figure out,  _ dropout _ . You’re bored and dissatisfied with your life, and you took the first opportunity you saw to bolt.”

“We’re back to this then?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Three years really hasn’t changed you, has it?”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but Keith barrelled forward, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Stop shoving all of your insecurities on me. I’m not gonna let you blame me for your problems anymore. Maybe instead of projecting on me, you should think long and hard about what  _ you’re _ running from.”

Keith shoved up from the table, plastic chair stuttering on the linoleum, before tossing a twenty on the table, snatching up the key, and marching out, the thud of his boots in direct contrast to the cheerful tinkling of the bells hanging on the door’s handle.

Though the conversation in the rest of the restaurant barely paused, Lance felt like everyone was staring. He felt exposed. Keith’s words had sliced deep, in a way he hadn’t expected, given that it wasn’t anything Lance hadn’t thought himself.

Because he  _ was _ running. Running from his family’s reassuring smiles, running from the dreams he’d once had, running from the weight of all the expectations he wasn’t meeting. More than anything, though, he was running from the life he’d never wanted. 

Twenty-four and a goddamn resource manager. Whatever the fuck that meant. 

And yeah, it was a good, solid job. It paid the bills and he got to go home at the end of the day and didn’t have to think about research papers or do any extra reading or take tests. 

But despite all that, he was bored. He was tired of his life, which was why he’d put in for the transfer. If only he could just get out of Georgia, then maybe he’d finally learn to be satisfied with his life. 

Maybe he could be happy. 

“You alright there, sugar?”

Lance startled, looking up at the waitress who was now standing at the table, check in hand. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry.” Lance dug into his own wallet to grab some extra cash and handed it to her. “Keep the change.”

He pushed up from the table and followed reluctantly in the wake left by Keith’s anger.

***

He half expected Keith to have vanished, or at least been pretending to sleep when he came back. Instead, as he pushed open the door to their motel room, he was greeted by the sight of Keith standing in the middle of the room, staring at the bed. 

The one, lone, queen-sized bed. 

“Huh.”

Keith turned around, hitting Lance with a glare that should have made Lance spontaneously combust.

“How the hell did you only get one bed?!”

Lance’s hackles rose. “Why are you blaming me? I asked for a double!”

“A double bed apparently.”

Lance worked his jaw, trying not to let Keith’s anger get to him. It really wasn’t his fault--they were in the Middle of Nowhere, Louisiana, so of course Lance assumed they’d give them a double room. 

He tried to remind himself that Keith probably wasn’t actually mad about the room so much as the conversation from before, but that didn’t really make him feel any better. 

“I mean, we can be adults about this, right?” Lance said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We can build a pillow wall, and--”

Keith dragged one of the pillows off the bed and tossed it on the floor before opening the closet and taking out the spare blanket.

“Or you could just sleep on the floor, I guess?”

Keith continued to ignore him, electing to plop face-down onto the pillow instead.

Lance scoffed. And they called  _ him _ the immature one. Sure, once he’d locked Keith in a closet just because he said that Lance had no idea how to dance, and there was that time he’d dumped Keith’s 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner down the drain because he was horrified to learn that Keith thought it was “more efficient,” but it wasn’t like this was a one-way street. Keith had once replaced his face masks with hand lotion, and put blue hair-dye in his shampoo.

Joke was on him, though. Blue was definitely his color.

Lance rifled through his suitcase, taking out his bag of toiletries before heading to the bathroom. Just because he was on the road did not mean he was about to sacrifice his meticulous skincare routine. 

And if anybody asked, he certainly didn’t double check to make sure his face masks weren’t actually hand lotion.

***

After spending way too long in the shower and definitely using up all the hot water in the little motel complex, Lance ran through his nighttime routine, ignoring the stinging in his eyes left from his long cry in the shower.

He was moving across the country, and he got emotional. Sue him.

Lance doubted that Keith was actually asleep on the uncomfortable motel floor, but he decided not to poke the bear, so to speak, and adjusted his orthopedic pillow before wrestling with the sheets and snuggling in to sleep.

After a long day’s drive, he expected to fall asleep quickly, but Keith’s words still rattled in his head.

_ Maybe instead you should think long and hard about what you’re running from _ .

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far! If you liked this, feed me kudos and comments, or come drop a line to me on [tumblr](https://thetolkiengeek.tumblr.com)
> 
> I should have another update for you come next week!


	2. carry all of my own lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two.
> 
> They have a bonding moment or two, and the author reveals more of her trash taste in road trip food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Just a quick bit of housekeeping:
> 
> You'll notice I up'd the chapter count. I think the word count is going to be about the same, but I decided to make each day a separate chapter. This means that the chapter lengths are going to be a little inconsistent, but because this week's update is shorter than last, I'm going to try and have an update to you guys earlier, probably on Friday.
> 
> As always, a great big thank you to my beta and love of my life, Dani. You're writing a thesis and you still beta'd this ridiculously self-indulgent AU, so you're basically the best person I know.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here's Day Two.
> 
> Chapter title from Hate That You Know Me by Bleachers (ft. CRJ). (Yes, I know I have a CRJ problem, don't @ me)

**Day Two**

When Lance’s alarm went off the next morning, he felt far from rested. His thoughts were muddled with a hazy fog, and a vague sense of unsettling coursed through his head. His dreams had been plagued with images of Atlas and the feeling of being chased by something large and looming.

But there was a full day of driving ahead of him, so he reached out, throwing a pillow on top of where Keith had been sleeping.

It landed with a thud and a groan. 

“I was awake, you dipshit,” Keith grumbled, tossing the pillow back. “Your alarm could wake the dead.”

Lance just grunted, not bothering to respond as he rolled off the bed and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom and running quickly through his morning routine. He emerged to see Keith tugging a plain black shirt over his head, and his eyes caught on the pull of lean muscles on his back. 

Keith had certainly not let up on his gym routine in the past few years.

Lance shook his head, reminding himself of the biting venom Keith had addressed him with the night before, before he shoved his pajamas in his suitcase and zipped it closed perhaps a little more aggressively than necessary. 

“Alright, Mullet, let’s go.”

“Not a mullet,” Keith muttered, but he followed Lance out the door, stopping briefly to leave the key in the dropbox.

The sun was barely up, the world awash in a muted blue, and the muggy Louisiana air filled with a chorus of buzzing cicadas. 

Lance breathed in the familiar humidity, before unlocking the car and tossing his suitcase in the back and climbing into the front seat, Keith following suit.

For just a moment, he let himself rest his head against the steering wheel, shutting his eyes against the early morning haze.

“I can drive.”

Lance rolled his head to the side to look at Keith, expecting the same disdainful look he’d gotten last night.

Instead, Keith’s big, round eyes were filled with something close to sympathy, a half-smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. 

Lance blinked. “What.”

“You know, if you want,” Keith said quickly. “Because you drove all day yesterday, and it’s not really fair for me to make you to drive the whole way--”

“Keith.”

Keith stopped, clicking his jaw shut.

“I’m okay. I don’t really feel comfortable letting anyone else drive Blue. You know, for insurance reasons.”

Keith nodded, turning back to the front, but not quickly enough for Lance to miss the little pout on his face.

“But I appreciate it, really,” he added. “Thank you.”

Keith turned back to him, the half-smile back. “Yeah, anytime.”

Lance couldn’t stop himself from returning the small smile.

Despite Keith’s words the night before, or perhaps even because of them, Lance didn’t feel angry or resentful or any of the things he might have felt even a year or two ago. Keith hadn’t said anything that he hadn’t already thought himself. He wasn’t being mean or spiteful without purpose, and honestly, Lance probably needed that kick in the ass.

That didn’t mean he was going to let him drive his car, though. No fucking way.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Lance said, jingling his keys with a flourish and starting the engine.

The car lit up, the engine rumbling to life and the radio along with it.

Except the radio was set to connect to Lance’s bluetooth, and said bluetooth defaulted to his music library rather than his Spotify.

Lance felt like he was moving in slow motion, his hand reaching for the power button, a second too late to stop the lone G note from ringing out in the car. 

Keith swung his head around to stare at Lance, and Lance felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

“You--”

“I can explain!”

And suddenly Keith was shouting. “I knew it! You gave me so much shit for it, and your insults were always oddly specific, I fucking knew it!”

Lance put his face in his hands.

“You like My Chemical Romance!”

Lance shook his head in shame.

This was his best-kept secret. After calling Keith out on his perpetual emo phase, he’d gotten curious. Really, he had just been googling the band to see if he could come up with any better things to tease Keith with, but there was autoplay and one thing led to another, and suddenly, Lance had all of their discography loaded on his phone.

He’d been so careful. He knew that if anyone had found out about this, he’d never have heard the end of it. Especially from Pidge. So he’d kept them off all of this public playlists, not even letting the Spotify algorithm know about it. This was a secret between him and his very limited iTunes library.

“Oh man, you really have everything, don’t you.  _ I _ don’t even know some of these songs.”

Somehow, Keith had gotten a hold of Lance’s phone and was scrolling through his music.

Lance hit his head repeatedly against the steering wheel. “God, if you’re there, please just strike me down now.”

He didn’t even have to look up to see, he could  _ feel _ Keith’s smirk. 

“Pidge is gonna love this.”

***

Pidge did, in fact, love it. Keith had barely waited two minutes after they had gotten on the road again before texting them, and not a minute later, they called. Keith put them on speaker so Lance could hear their cackle. 

“Oh no, sounds like you’re breaking up, there’s no signal, gotta go byeeeeee.”

Lance tapped blindly at Keith’s phone until Pidge’s voice cut off.

“Cut it out!” Keith pulled the phone away from Lance’s grasp, but not soon enough.

In Lance’s desperate attempt at trying to hang up on Pidge, he’d somehow opened up Keith’s own music library, and the sound of New Age drums drifted out of the tiny speakers.

Lance grinned and glanced over to see Keith with his eyes closed, a look of defeat on his face.

“Oh hell yes!”

“Lance--”

“You listen to  _ Enya _ ! You fucking love ‘Orinoco Flow’!” 

“Lance, please--”

“This is the greatest day of my life! Put Pidge back on the phone!”

“No, don’t--”

Keith wasn’t fast enough to stop Lance from getting Siri to call Pidge.

This time, Lance didn’t mind the cackle.

***

That day’s trip went more smoothly than the day before. Some of the tension had settled between the two of them, giving way to a sort of uneasy peace reinforced by a mutual understanding of embarrassing music tastes. 

Lance even stopped at Love’s to fill up, and Keith came back with an Arizona Tea and a frown.

“What’s the sourpuss for?” Lance asked, climbing into the seat. “You gonna question my taste in road trip snacks again?”

Keith slammed the door shut and huffed. “It’s  supposed to be ninety-nine cents.”

“What?”

Keith tapped the can in Lance’s hand. “This thing. It’s supposed to be ninety-nine cents.”

Lance popped open the tab before taking a sip and setting it down in the cup holder.

“Yeah…”

“That one was a dollar twenty.”

Lance started the car and pulled out of the gas station. 

“I still don’t understand the pout, dude.”

“It’s  _ supposed  _ to be ninety-nine cents.”

Lance glanced over at the intensity in Keith’s tone.

“Hey man, it’s really okay, I can spot you the twenty cents if it means that much to you.”

Keith sighed. “No, that’s not it. I just...I know they’re supposed to be ninety-nine cents, and it wasn’t ninety-nine cents, and I  _ told _ him that, and he  _ still _ made me pay.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get in a fistfight with the poor cashier and that you didn’t make me and this unsuspecting, innocent car your unwitting getaway?”

“What? No. Why do you always think I get in fistfights?”

Lance shrugged. “I mean, rumor has it you got kicked out of school for punching Iverson in the face, and that’s why he wears an eyepatch.”

“That makes no sense! He had an eye-patch before I met him! You know this!”

“You can prove nothing,” Lance said primly. 

“Oh my god, Lance.”

***

They were nearly out of Louisiana when Lance finally broke.

“You were right, you know.”

“Hm?” Keith startled up from where he’d been curling up against the window.

“What you said,” Lance continued. “Last night, I mean. About the running.”

Keith was quiet, so Lance kept going, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I mean, it’s not really an exaggeration to say that this isn’t exactly where I thought I’d be by the time I turned twenty-four. Resource manager for a tech company? My degree is in Spanish literature, for fuck’s sake.”

Lance sighed, and tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing in the background.

“And don’t get me wrong, I love my family. I  _ do _ , I just...I felt so trapped. Like the air was trying to suffocate me or something.” Lance laughed humorlessly. “Living with my parents really didn’t help, did it?”

Keith huffed a little laugh, more to let Lance know he was listening than anything else.

“Yeah, that was fun,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “Especially now that they’re getting a divorce.”

He startled as he felt a hand land softly on his shoulder, so feather light and gone before he could even really tell it was there.

“Lance, I’m so sorry.”

Lance shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s been coming for a while now, and I guess now that my sister’s graduated high school, they figured now would be a good time to make it official. But still. It’s not exactly what I’d call a fun time.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so,” Keith said softly.

Lance shrugged. “It is what it is. Besides, that’s not really why I’m running. I just...I need to live my own life, you know? Really figure out who I am outside of all of this. And I realize that moving across the country is a bit dramatic, and it’s not gonna solve everything, but at least I’m  _ doing _ something. If I stayed, I’d just be stuck. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean.”

***

“Welcome to Texas, y’all.”

Keith snorted. “Was that supposed to be a Texas accent?”

“You’re darn tootin’ right!”

“Somehow that was worse.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Let’s hear you do better, huh?”

“You really need to stop issuing challenges you know you can’t win,” Keith said with an impeccable drawl. “You do realize I grew up here, right?”

Lance furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You really didn’t know?”

Lance frowned. This sounded like something he really should have known.

“I feel like if I did, I would have made fun of you for it,” he said. “You know, call you Sandy Cheeks, ask if everything really is bigger in Texas, tell you to lasso a cow, that kind of thing.”

Keith laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“But wait,” Lance said, a fuzzy memory making its way up to the surface. “I thought you said you and your dad lived in Arizona?”

“I mean, yeah,” Keith said. “But my dad died when I was nine, and I got put in the foster care system after that.”

“Oh.”

“I ended up in Texas for a while. Houston’s horrible, but I didn’t mind Dallas all that much.”

Lance was quiet, letting the music softly wash over the both of them. 

Keith was quiet for a while, too. He was silent for so long that Lance had thought the conversation was over, which wouldn’t have been surprising given Keith’s track record of sharing exactly nothing about himself. 

But maybe by opening up, by finally admitting to his own insecurities, Lance had left a door open in a gentle invitation—one Keith decided to take, continuing after a long breath, the words coming out soft and near a whisper. 

“Foster care was…I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Half the people were there just for the tax break, and the other half were so nice they made you want to stay, but you never could.”

Keith’s voice grew stronger with each word, and Lance was mesmerized. 

“After my dad died, I was so angry. I didn’t understand how my whole world could just disappear like that. So I made it my mission never to let someone hurt me like that again. It made it hard to stay even if I wanted to, being the ‘problem child’ or whatever. But Shiro never gave up on me.”

Lance smiled. Shiro never gave up on anyone. Except maybe Professor Slav, but that was understandable. 

“I get it, you know?” Keith said. 

Lance blinked, startled by the weight of Keith’s stare. “Huh?”

“I get feeling restless, like you’re stuck and if you can just get to where no one knows you, maybe you can finally be the person you want to be, instead of who everyone thinks you are.”

Lance felt the hitch in his breath, the skip of his heartbeat. Once again, Keith was breaking him open, smashing through what Lance always danced around like the blunt instrument he was. 

“I know I’m not gonna find all the answers,” Keith continued, unaware of the way he was turning Lance’s world on its side, “but I need to know where I come from.”

Lance hummed. He couldn’t pretend to understand, having known  _ exactly _ where he came from, right from the beginning, never being allowed to forget his family’s history, how much they sacrificed so that he could be happy. 

Lance couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. 

“What?” Keith asked, his tone bristling. 

“We’re always meant to be opposites, aren’t we?” Lance mused. “You’re running towards what I’m trying to escape.”

Keith fell quiet once again, and Lance risked a glance. 

Keith’s eyes were trained on him, the bright midday sun coming through the windows making them look almost purple. Lance was sure that if he didn’t need to watch the road, he’d have been pinned by the intensity of that stare. 

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re headed in the same direction, then,” Keith said finally. 

“I guess so,” Lance replied. 

***

“Can we stop? I’ve gotta pee.”

“Again?” Lance asked. “We just stopped like an hour ago.”

“So?”

“So I’m not stopping for another hour at least. I want to cover as much ground as I can today.”

“Come on, man,” Keith said. “It’ll take two minutes.”

Lance groaned and signalled for the next exit. “You and your damn coffee.”

***

“ _ Ooooooh I wanna dance with somebody _ ,” Lance sang with all his might. 

Next to him, Keith was shaking his head in exasperation, though Lance thought it might have looked a little fond too. 

He’d queued up his road trip playlist while Keith ran into a gas station to pee. When Keith complained, Lance had just shrugged and said, “It’s your fault for having a bladder the size of a chihuahua’s.”

“ _ I wanna feel the  _ heat  _ with somebody _ .” 

Lance felt himself smile when Keith laughed at his deliberate voice crack on the  _ heat _ . 

_ Ooooooh I wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me _ .

***

“Come on dude, just do it!”

“No, that’s weird!”

“Keith my man, my buddy, my pal. It’s not that weird.”

“I’m not gonna put Bugles on your fingers for you.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I refuse to eat Bugles without doing witch fingers, and I can’t do it myself because I’m driving.”

“Then don’t eat them,” Keith said, eating a few out of the palm of his hand like some kind of heathen.

“Okay, but you’ve got to try it just once, for me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Oh, well, since you said ‘pretty please.’”

“Really?”

“No.”

“You’re a monster.”

***

“...okay that’s kind of fun.”

“I told you! Now put them on my fingers.”

“Still weird, Lance.”

“Oh come on!”

***

Lance yawned for the fifth time in as many minutes, squinting against the setting sun to peer at the exit sign.

“Wiiiitchiiiiiitaaaaa,” Lance hummed, feeling the way his mouth sounded out the word.

“Alright, I think we’re done for the day,” Keith said, tapping at his phone and pulling up navigation.

“Huh?”

“You’re starting to read everything out loud. You always did that when you’d been up too long studying,” Keith said. “Take the next exit, by the way.”

Lance resisted the urge to turn and stare at Keith. “Dude.”

“What? I used Apple Maps in case you’re worried about that.”

“No, not that. It’s that you...never mind,” Lance said, sliding onto the off-ramp, following Siri’s instructions to a mid-sized town and that perpetually familiar just-off-the-highway collage of restaurants, gas stations, and hotels. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“I put in  _ Waffle House _ . I think it’s up here on the right.”

Lance looked at Keith, something like admiration blooming in his chest. “There might be hope for you yet.”

Keith shook his head, sighing. “Why you keep insisting we’ve got irreconcilable differences, I’ll never know.”

Lance signalled and pulled smoothly into the _ Waffle House  _ lot, throwing the Jeep in park and turning to Keith. “You think pickle is an appropriate flavor for chips. This is a fundamental difference in character, my friend.”

Something in Lance’s stomach fluttered at the smile that Keith gave him. “Insurmountable.”

Lance smiled back, and they sat in the car, holding each other’s gaze. The air around them turned warm, and Lance didn’t think it was from the Texas heat. 

In the console, Keith’s phone buzzed, and they startled back, both of them a lot closer than Lance had realized.

Keith glanced down and snorted.

“What?”

“Shiro. He says congrats on making it to Texas without killing each other.”

“Yet,” Lance said, turning off the car and pushing the door open.

“Yet,” Keith agreed, slamming the door shut behind him before heading into the building.

By the time they sat down in an empty booth, ordered, and gotten their food, some of the road weariness began to fade, and Lance found that he was rather enjoying himself.

“Say what you will about chain restaurants,” Lance said around a mouthful of scattered, smothered,  _ and _ covered hash browns, “but you gotta admit, there’s nothing like a  _ Waffle House _ .”

Keith shrugged, poking at his hash browns, which were only scattered and smothered. The amateur. “It’s because they’re not a chain. They exist in a pocket dimension, and every time you enter one, you’re transported to the same  _ Waffle House _ outside of time and space.”

Lance shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the wide grin from breaking across his face. “You’re something else, Kogane.”

Keith shrugged, but Lance could see the smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just speaking the truth here.  _ Waffle House _ is part of the Twilight Zone.”

“Honestly,” Lance said around another yawn, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

They fell quiet then, the long hours of travel finally seeming to get to Lance, and Keith seemingly content to say nothing more.

Lance had always envied Keith’s ability to just...stay quiet. Lance had never been comfortable with silence, had always scrambled to fill it somehow. Being around Keith usually made him antsy, baffled more than anything, but he was soon coming to realize that just because Keith didn’t rattle off everything he was thinking as he was thinking it, didn’t mean he didn’t still have things to say.

So when Keith looked up again, worrying his lip between his teeth, Lance wasn’t totally surprised that he broke the silence.

“Before, when I thought you were mad I didn’t use Apple Maps...you said that it wasn’t about that, but about something else I said.”

Lance blinked, the aborted conversation floating up vividly in his mind. “Yeah?”

“What was it really about?”

Lance was quiet for a moment. He was tempted to say nothing, but the pleading in Keith’s eyes gave him pause. 

“You said that I always read out loud when I’m tired,” he said quietly. 

Keith knit his brows together, and Lance resisted the urge to reach across the table and smooth out the little furrow. “I mean, yeah? You do.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that you…”

“That I…” Keith prompted.

“I didn’t think you paid that much attention to me,” Lance said. “Didn’t think you paid attention at all, actually.”

Keith frowned, looking more confused than ever. “What do you mean?”

Lance leaned back against the hard false wood of the booth and waved a hand. “You were always doing your own thing, you know? You sat in the corner brooding, and I only ever saw you talk to Shiro, so I just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me. I really didn’t think you noticed  _ anything  _ during those study sessions.”

“Oh.” Keith’s expression softened as Lance recalled the year Shiro had insisted on joint study sessions, where Lance had helped edit more of Pidge’s and Hunk’s papers than he’d ever wanted to. 

Lance shrugged. “I was just surprised we didn’t spend that whole time yelli--.”

“I always paid attention to you,” Keith blurted, cutting Lance off.

“What?”

“You had good writing advice,” Keith continued. “And I liked your reading voice.”

“Oh,” Lance said softly, and an unexpected heat flooded his cheeks. “Really?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. How do you think I passed my writing seminar?”

“Natural talent?”

Keith snorted. “Despite what you think, I’m really not good at everything.”

Lance rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh please. You randomly decided to take  _ linguistics _ of all things, and you got an A-plus on every assignment.”

“Now who’s the one who paid attention?”

“Hey,” Lance said, pointing at Keith with his waffle-laden fork, “we were rivals. It was my sworn duty to keep tabs on you.”  _ And I thought you were cute _ , he tacked on silently.

Keith fell quiet again, and he trained his eye on the floor as he fiddled with his fingerless gloves. Why he still had those when he had ostensibly sold his motorcycle, Lance didn’t know. But damn if they didn’t still look good. 

“I never thought of us as rivals, you know,” Keith said softly. 

Lance looked up to meet Keith’s gaze, his indigo eyes wide with earnestness. 

“I always...I wanted us to be friends,” he continued, still talking just barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t really know how. And then you got it into your head that we were enemies or something, and…”

Lance bit his lip, something like regret churning uncomfortably in his stomach. He’d always just assumed that this was a two-sided thing, that they’d never gotten along and that was just how things were meant to be. 

But maybe Lance had just been young and insecure, and maybe he just really wanted to be friends with Keith, too. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Lance said after a moment, “I’m not sure I knew how to be your friend either, but I wanted that too. Still do.”

Keith smiled, and Lance felt a warmth bloom in his stomach.

“Even if I like pickle chips?”

Lance made a show of mulling it over, but he couldn’t stop himself from returning Keith’s smile. “Yeah, Mullet. Even if you like pickle chips.”

***

They found a decent hotel a little ways down the road, one of those chains just shy of overpriced, but Lance didn’t mind. He did make sure to get two beds this time, though.

When they both settled in to sleep, there wasn’t any lingering awkwardness in the air. And unlike before, Lance fell asleep right away, and he dreamt of falling into a warm indigo sky.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, feel free to leave me a comment or kudos! I'm not gonna lie, that shit is validating as fuck.


	3. afraid of being sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Three
> 
> People always say that the drive through west Texas is the worst. Lance thinks those people just don't know how to have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!
> 
> I'm gonna be honest, I was so excited about this chapter that I almost posted it early, but I exercised some self restraint--not much, considering I'm posting this at 9am my time, but whatever.
> 
> I think this might be my favorite chapter, so I hope you guys like it. Once again, I'm tempted to apologize for the intense level of projecting that's going on, but what's fanfic for if not being at least a little self-indulgent? This was my favorite part of the drive, and I don't care what anyone else thinks, New Mexico is the most beautiful state. 
> 
> Anyway, I made a new and improved playlist which you can find [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12130135307/playlist/07jKialHhUTbBU9fsdSKQz?si=H0RALgZSQtCxcQBKQwfr3A). It's got a bit more of that early 20s angsty vibes. So, just a lot of Bleachers. I'm not sorry.
> 
> Without further ado, have Day Three.
> 
> Chapter title from Hard To Be Myself by Fickle Friends.

****

**Day Three**

It was with an unspoken agreement about the charm and allure of  _ Waffle House _ that Lance and Keith returned the next morning. 

“Okay, so,” Lance said after putting in their orders and getting their food, “we’re gonna actually have to start actually planning stuff, because I still don’t know where you’re going, and I’ve got a list of road trip things that I am absolutely not missing out on.”

“Of course you do,” Keith said, rolling his eyes, but Lance saw the smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. “Let me guess, you wanna do the Grand Canyon.”

“Um, duh. I need a new profile pic.”

“Right. Well, according to Google Maps my mom lives halfway between Flagstaff and Vegas.”

“Sick. We can head there after the Petrified Forest and the Grand Canyon,” Lance said, scrolling through his road trip wish list.

“Do you know how many field trips I’ve taken to those places?” Keith asked. “You’re really going to drag me there again?”

“Hey,” Lance said, lifting a finger, “you crashed  _ my  _ road trip, may I remind you. So like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“How could I forget.” Keith took another bite of his eggs. “So, O Master of the Road Trips, what’s our next destination?”

“Well, it’s a little less than eight hours to Albuquerque,” Lance said, plugging in directions on Maps. 

“Do…” Keith started, and Lance looked up to see Keith staring into his coffee, refusing to make eye contact. If Lance didn’t know any better, he’d say Keith looked almost shy. “Do you think we could stop in Santa Fe instead?”

Lance gave Keith a long look, but he typed it up in the search bar. 

“Well what do you know.”

Keith’s head shot up. “What?”

“It’s the same distance. Slightly different route, and it might be a little longer to get  _ out  _ of Santa Fe, but I don’t see why we can’t do that.” 

Lance put his phone down and took a bite of his toast, which was absolutely smothered in that weird butter substitute. Why  _ Waffle House _ didn’t have real butter, Lance didn’t know. Probably some  _ Twilight Zone _ shit, like Keith had said. “Any reason you want to stop there in particular?”

Keith broke eye contact again, flushing and looking down at his lap. “I used to go with my dad,” he said quietly. “I always liked it there.”

Lance’s eyes widened. Though they’d shared some personal information with each other yesterday, Lance had thought that was all he was going to get out of Keith, remembering how much of a clamshell he’d been in college. Instead, against all Lance thought he knew of Keith, he was being offered a bit of vulnerability, a glimpse into Keith’s past.

Lance tried not to think about how badly he wanted to know more.

“Santa Fe it is, then,” Lance said softly.

***

“Punch buggy!”

“Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ, Lance, that hurt!”

“Sorry?”

“No you’re not.”

“Not really, no--OW! What the fuck?!”

“You didn’t say no punch backs.”

***

“ _ And I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more…” _

Lance looked over to see Keith rolling his eyes, studiously trained on his phone.

“Oh come on, Keith,” Lance said. “This playlist is thebomb-dot-com and you know it.”

Keith shot him an unimpressed look. “Did you just say ‘thebomb-dot-com’ in 2019?”

“What was that? I can’t hear you over how much fun I’m having listening to this playlist.” Lance turned up the volume, belting out the “ _ DA DA-DA DA _ !”s with all of his might.

He turned to see Keith glancing away, hiding a smile under his hand.

***

Lance gazed longingly out the window at the gentle, rolling hills of West Texas. 

“You know, I always heard that driving through west Texas was boring, but this is actually...really beautiful.”

Keith hummed. 

“There’s not much out here, I guess,” Lance continued, mostly talking to himself. “But it’s kind of cool, looking at all these farms. These people are living off the land, probably know everyone who lives in their town. The American dream, man. Minus the fact that everyone here is probably a little racist and homophobic and are actually on land stolen from Mexico and Native Americans, of course.”

“Of course,” Keith muttered, and Lance turned to see that Keith was leaning against the window, half-dozing, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

“You know,” Lance went on wistfully, “I always wanted to own my own farm. When I was little, I told everyone I was going to be a cowboy ‘with extra cows.’ There was this one cow at the petting zoo named Kaltenecker, and I really wanted to buy her and move out west and buy my own farm and ride horses and learn how to lasso and take care of all my animals…”

Lance trailed off, blinking a bit against the bright sun. 

“What made you decide to do resource management instead?”

Lance startled, glancing at Keith, who had sat up fully, eyes alert and piercing.

“I don’t know,” Lance said quietly. “I guess...I guess I realized, it wasn’t realistic.”

Keith hummed again, and there was no judgement, no criticism in the sound, just an acknowledgement that he had been heard. 

Nevertheless, Lance felt it deep in the hollow of his chest.

***

“Cheez-It me?” Lance asked, holding out his hand.

“Um…”

Lance glanced over to see Keith with a guilty look on his face.

“I might have eaten them all. Like, thirty minutes ago?”

“The whole family pack?”

“...yeah.”

Lance was quiet for a long moment before, “Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah, Lance?”

“I’m leaving you at the next gas station.”

***

“Okay, this is definitely yellow.”

“Nope,” Keith said, and Lance didn’t have to look over to see that he was smirking.

“I swear to god it’s yellow,” Lance said, chewing the Skittle slowly.

“It’s definitely not yellow.”

“Then it’s green,” Lance said. “Lemon and lime always taste the same to me.”

“Green’s not lime anymore,” Keith said, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just shattered Lance’s entire worldview.

“What?!”

“It’s green apple or something.”

“Now that’s just wrong,” Lance said. “How the hell are you supposed to make a Sprite Skittle?”

“What the fuck is a Sprite Skittle?” 

“You mix the yellow and green Skittles and it tastes like Sprite.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Keith said, shaking his head. “But no, it’s not green either. Keep guessing.”

Lance tapped on the steering wheel with his thumb. “I accidentally swallowed it.”

“Of course you did. For the record, it was red.”

“I knew it!”

“You really didn’t.”

***

Lance’s eyes shifted over to Keith as the sounds of the Proclaimers drifted out of the speakers once again. He knew for certain that his playlist was at least six hours long. The fact that it had only been four made him suspicious, but they hadn’t even gotten through half the Dirty Dancing soundtrack yet. The only way they’d hear this again would be if someone added it to the queue.

Lance snuck a look at Keith, who was tapping his foot, and turned up the volume again. 

“ _ DA DA-DA DA _ !”

“Da da-da da,” Keith echoed quietly, his surprisingly husky voice barely audible over the song.

Lance grinned but didn’t say anything, in case Keith stopped singing. He really  _ really _ didn’t want Keith to stop.

***

The landscape seemed like it changed the instant they crossed over into the New Mexico border.

Gone were the soft green hills dotted with quixotic, monstrous wind turbines. Instead, the landscape had turned into a desert scrubland, all the plants peeking out, spiky and tenacious, from the orange-yellow dirt. 

Lance had to stop himself from gazing slack-jawed at all of the large outcropping of rocks that dotted the landscape.

“You keep staring like that and your eyes are going to bug out,” Keith said.

Lance shook his head, keeping his eyes half on the road, half on the outstretched desert.

“This might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” Lance said reverently. 

Keith was quiet next to him, and Lance tore his eyes away from the view just long enough to glance at him.

Keith had a furrow in his brow and his mouth was contorted into a thoughtful pout.

“I guess I never really thought of the desert as beautiful,” Keith said. “It’s just the desert.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Lance said. “It’s not what I expected.”

Keith stared out the window, the furrow not gone from his brow. 

“Neither are you,” he said, so quietly that Lance didn’t think he was meant to hear.

***

It hadn’t really occurred to Lance how  _ high _ Santa Fe was.

“What do you think the elevation is?” he asked, peering out of the window up at the Pueblo-inspired architecture.

“According to Google, seven thousand one hundred and ninety-nine feet,” Keith said. “And can you please keep your eyes on the road? You needed to turn left at that last light.”

“Shit.” Lance signalled, squeezing his way into the next lane.

“What is this place again?” Lance asked, following Siri’s instructions onto a small side street.

“Unclear,” Keith said. “But the reviews were good and the price was decent. Plus, I was able to book a room online.”

“ I hope they have a hot tub,” Lance said wistfully, rolling his shoulders. “Driving for three days straight is murder on my neck.”

Keith didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then, quietly, “You really don’t have to drive the entire time.”

Even just a day or two ago, Lance probably would have bristled at that, thinking that Keith was trying to take control or something, encroaching on his territory. Now, however, he could recognize the note of concern laced through his voice, tinted with a hint of guilt. 

Lance sighed and turned into the small parking lot in front of the resort. “I know, Mullet. And it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just…”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “It’s your baby, I get it. I’d never have let anyone else near Red, either.”

Lance threw the car into park, and turned to look at Keith. “Thanks for the concern, really, but I’ll be fine.”

Keith smiled, quick and small but genuine, and Lance smiled back before turning off the engine and stepping out of the car into the cool, dry evening air. 

“You know,” he said, stretching his arms up and leaning to one side and then the other, “I won’t let you drive Blue, but I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to give me a massage.”

When Keith didn’t answer, Lance looked over to see Keith staring at him, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and a pretty little flush to his cheeks.

“Um…”

Lance chuckled. “Relax, Mullet, it was a joke.”

“Oh. Right.”

“That is, unless you were seriously thinking about it, and in that case, it totally wasn’t a joke and I need you to be massaging my shoulders the instant we get up to the room.”

Keith laughed and shook his head. “Your bony ass? I don’t think so.”

“Hey, I’m not bony, I’m  _ lean _ .”

“Right.”

“Limber. Lithe. Lissome.”

“Careful with those five dollar words there, McClain,” Keith said, heading into the reception area. “Someone might think you actually know how to use them.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of you saying I had good writing advice.”

“You definitely imagined that. I’d never give you a compliment.”

“Uh huh. And I suppose I also imagined you complimenting my reading voice.”

“Exactly.”

***

As it turned out, the cheaper hotel had accidentally overbooked them, and they got upgraded to their bigger, fancier sister resort that included, yes, a hot tub. 

“Oh sweet merciful Jesus,” Lance said, once he read through the “Amenities” section of the info binder in their room. “Ooh they also have an on-staff masseuse!”

“You sure they didn’t make us pay extra?” Keith asked, grabbing the binder and flipping through the various activities. 

“I triple checked. They’re charging the same as the other place,” Lance said. “Looks like you’ve lucked out and don’t have to give me that massage after all.”

“Bold of you to assume that I would have done it,” Keith said, but he refused to make eye contact and his cheeks were just a little pink. 

“You just wish you could get your hands on me,” Lance said flippantly, jumping up from the bed with a new spring in his step. “Now I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Wanna check out the restaurant downstairs?”

“Uh...yeah. I’ll meet you down there in a few?”

Lance shrugged, figuring that Keith probably wanted a moment to himself. “Sure thing.” 

As he walked down the hallway towards the elevators, he thought about the fact that he and Keith had pretty much been in constant contact for three days straight, and yet, Lance didn’t find that he was sick of his company. 

If anything, he wanted  _ more _ .

He’d learned more about Keith in three days than in all six years he’d known him. Granted, half of that time had been spent in radio silence, only ever making rare appearances in the seldom-used group chat, but still. It made him wonder just how much he’d been missing out on.

Despite taking a wrong turn or two, Lance eventually made it down to the restaurant and was seated at a table for two out on the patio.

It wasn’t quite six o’clock, the sun just beginning to set, the dry air cooling rapidly, and Lance turned his head towards the breeze, closing his eyes and breathing in the smell of a new city. 

It smelled clean, but most of all, Lance realized that, for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel stifling. 

“So, anything good?”

Lance blinked his eyes open to see Keith taking the seat across from him, and the breath he’d just taken left him in a rush.

He wasn’t sure what it was--it wasn’t like Keith had changed or done anything, but seeing him there in his signature leather jacket, his perfectly disheveled new haircut, a soft look in his eyes, Lance thought he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Lance?”

Lance shook his head, fiercely reminding himself that he and Keith had only just become friends, and that it wouldn’t do to go and jeopardize that just because his eyes shone purple in the low light.

“I’m gonna be honest,” Lance said, eyes darting down and scanning the entrees, “I haven’t made it past the drink menu. I’m in desperate need of a beer.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think they’ve got PBR on tap,” Keith said.

Lance looked up, narrowing his eyes at Keith’s self-satisfied smirk. “Listen here, Mullet, I’ll have you know that my palate has evolved since sophomore year.”

“What, you drink Bud Lite now?”

Lance gave an indignant squawk. “Excuse you. Just because I didn’t like that weird pink elephant beer you tried to make me drink, does not mean that my taste buds are that of a frat boy’s.”

Keith shrugged. “I’m just saying, I distinctly remember one night junior year where you were clutching a forty-rack, waxing poetic on the merits of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I think you called it the ‘King of Beers’?”

“‘King of Bad Beers’ actually,” Lance said primly. 

“Right.”

“And don’t you sit there all smug. You shotgunned those things like a champ, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Only so I wouldn’t have to taste it.”

“Well, duh,” Lance said. “You’re not supposed to actually enjo--”

“So sorry to interrupt,” came a new voice.

Lance looked up to see their waitress looking down on them with a knowing smile, and he wondered just how long she’d been standing there.

“Would you like to hear what beer we have on tap?”

***

After dinner, they decided to walk around Santa Fe, the little hills and narrow alleys hiding a thriving culture of independent shops.

Most of the stores had closed, though Lance could see them boasting displays of local Native artwork and Georgia O’Keeffe posters. Keith didn’t seem to mind that they couldn’t go in, content to just wander the streets, face turned towards the setting sun.

Lance had to keep himself from staring, Keith’s profile silhouetted in the golden light, a kind of serenity Lance hadn’t known Keith could possess making him look almost holy. 

“Thank you,” Keith said, turning his haloed head towards Lance. “For stopping here, I mean.”

Lance shrugged and smiled softly. “You say that like it’s a hardship being here.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to change your plans for me. I did crash  _ your _ road trip, after all.”

Lance hummed. “You’ve been...a surprisingly not terrible road trip companion.”

“Be still my beating heart,” Keith deadpanned, though Lance saw a sparkle in his eye, “is Lance McClain actually complimenting me?”

“Chill, Mullet, I said ‘not terrible.’”

“Coming from you, that’s a ringing endorsement.”

Lance rolled his eyes, nudging Keith on the shoulder. “You’ll hear no such thing from me. I still haven’t forgiven you for eating all the Cheez-Its. Or trying to put your feet up on the dash.”

“God,” Keith said, shaking his head, “that feels so long ago.”

Lance nodded in agreement. “It’s hard to believe it’s only been three days. It feels like everything’s changed.”

Keith’s steps faltered, barely perceptible, except that Lance had attuned to all things Keith.

“In a good way?”

Lance couldn’t help but smile a little at the uncertainty in his tone. “Yeah, Keith. In a good way.”

Their hands brushed, and Lance felt the sudden urge to entangle his fingers in Keith’s.

He snatched his hand back like it had been burned. Keith gave him a curious look, and Lance pretended to be really fascinated with some handmade blankets in a darkened display window. 

He could feel Keith’s stare, catching it out of the corner of his eye, reflected in the glass, but he avoided his gaze. Those eyes had always seen too much, had pierced through his insecurities all those years ago. There was no telling what he’d see that Lance wanted to keep hidden even from himself.

***

When they got back to the hotel, Lance changed into his swimsuit and went down to the hot tub, throwing a quick goodbye over his shoulder as he left.

Despite what it looked like from the outside, Lance wasn’t one to share what was going on inside his head. Sure, he could talk the ear off a brick wall, but he was a  _ muller _ . He needed to turn a thought over and over in his head, parsing it out bit by bit, wearing it smooth, before he really understood it.

So he settled in the thankfully empty jacuzzi, the too-hot water bubbling around him, and he thought about Keith. 

He thought about that first day, the elation when he realized he wouldn’t be alone, and the sinking feeling when he realized he’d be with Keith. It had felt like forcing together the opposite poles of a magnet, relief at war with lingering animosity.

He thought about Keith staring him hard in the eyes, telling him that enough was enough.  _ Stop shoving all of your insecurities on me _ . 

Lance sunk down, blowing bubbles out his nose. 

Keith had been right. Even all these years later, Lance’s default was still to try and blame Keith for his own shortcomings. It was the real reason he’d deleted their project all those years ago--he’d been so terrified that he’d be found out, that they’d realize he didn’t belong at that school, in that class. Lance had worked so hard to even just be there, and there Keith had been, making it look effortless. 

It was no excuse, Lance knew that now, but he’d been so young, so scared. 

Somehow, despite three years of radio silence, they had cleared the air in a matter of days. 

Lance was grateful for that. Admittedly, Keith wasn’t what he’d expected. He was playful and funny and considerate, and not at all like the brooding loner Lance thought he’d known.

He thought back to their college years, to their rivalry, and maybe, just maybe, he could have known all this if he’d just paid attention. Had Keith really wanted to be his friend all those years?

Lance closed his eyes and sighed. 

Just how much had he missed out on?

He thought about the way Keith looked in the setting sun, the way his eyes sparkled violet as they looked so earnestly at him. Lance had always known Keith was beautiful, but it was easier to ignore when he thought that was just another thing that Lance would fail to beat him at. 

Most of all, Lance thought about all the ways he could ruin this fragile peace they’d reached. The foundations didn’t feel quite so shaky anymore, but his want felt like an earthquake, like if he’d reached across the table and grabbed Keith’s hand, if he ran his fingers through that hair like he wanted to, it would all come crashing down around him. 

With one last deep breath, Lance ducked under the water, coming up and pushing the wet strands out of his eyes before hauling himself up the steps. He shivered as the chilly breeze hit him, padding over to the towel rack and hugging the terrycloth around his body. 

He needed to pull himself together. These past few days with Keith had been great, surprisingly so, but that was all it could be. Soon, he’d be dropping Keith off somewhere in the middle of Arizona, and he’d be starting his new life in California. 

On his own. 

The prospect made Lance’s heart skip a beat, and Lance tried to pretend it was with excitement.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got Day Four all written, but I'm fighting with Day Five for several weeks now, and I'm probably going to go back and rework some things, so it might be a bit of a longer wait for the next update. You readers are so lovely, so I'll try and get something to you soon.
> 
> I love you guys <3


	4. steal the air out of my lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance had never thought he'd know so much about Keith, never thought he'd want to learn. But something shifted, and Lance has found himself somewhere entirely new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this on Sunday but then I thought....why not.
> 
> As always, my deepest gratitude towards my love, my life, my Classics wife, Dani. Her beta-ing skills are paralleled only by her writing skills.
> 
> Chapter title from Don't Take The Money by Bleachers
> 
> I think you can see a theme here.

**Day Four**

The next morning brought a strange reluctance, and Lance sensed that he wasn’t the only one who was dragging his feet.

They lingered at the breakfast buffet, Keith sipping his coffee and Lance pushing his now-cold eggs around his plate.

They’d both been quiet since Lance had gotten back from the hot tub to find Keith curled up in the armchair with a tattered paperback. He’d looked up when Lance came in, and Lance gave a nod and a smile before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

He’d reached no conclusion about Keith that he was ready to confront, but there was comfort in the fact that it was waiting for him when he was. 

“When do you have to be in California?” Keith asked quietly, startling Lance back to the present.

He blinked. “Not for another week. Why?”

Keith looked down into his coffee mug. “I have...kind of a big favor to ask.”

Lance set down his fork, tilted his head, and stared at Keith.

This wasn’t like when he asked about going to Santa Fe. That was sheepish, almost shy. This felt...heavier. Lance could see the slight tremble in his hand, the way he seemed to be holding his breath. 

“Bigger than going to Chick-fil-A?”

Keith snorted and rolled his eyes, the tension fading just a bit. “Maybe not that big.”

Lance smiled. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“It’s….well, we’re not that far from my hometown. In Arizona, I mean. And I think...I think I want to see it. If we can.”

“Oh. Seriously?”

Keith deflated, his eyes falling down to the tablecloth and his shoulders sagging, and Lance scrambled.

“Oh no, wait, Keith, I just meant, that’s it?” Keith looked back up and met Lance’s gaze with his big bambi eyes. “Of course we can go to your hometown.”

“Really?”

Lance nodded. “I’m just surprised you’d let me have that kind of dirt on you.”

“Well,” Keith said, the corner of his mouth twitching up in something resembling a smirk, “I can’t exactly walk there.”

“You’re just using me for my car, I see how it is.”

Keith laughed, and the sound sent Lance’s stomach swooping. “Lance, that’s  _ literally _ the whole reason I’m here with you.”

“And here I thought it was for my scintillating personality.”

“Whatever you gotta say to make yourself feel better.”

***

Keith got quiet the moment they crossed into Arizona. 

Lance hadn’t realized how much Keith actually talked until he was truly silent. He didn’t even complain when Lance played Carly Rae Jepsen.

He could feel the tension radiating off of Keith, and he nearly missed the exit on purpose, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the determination in the way Keith was sitting, the set of his jaw. 

So when Keith told him, he took the exit.

He was surprised by how little time it took to get there. Arizona wasn’t a small state by any standards, and by the way Keith had framed it, he’d been expecting something smack dab in the middle of the desert. 

It was still Nowhere, Arizona, make no mistake, but truth be told, Lance enjoyed the drive.

Pulling into town was anticlimactic. It was a typical small town, with the basic amenities, but not much more than that. It wasn’t exactly high-end, but it had its charm.

It was almost five by the time Lance pulled into the parking lot of the only diner in town. The sun was beating down, and the silence left after he turned off Blue’s A/C was deafening. 

Lance looked over at Keith. He was stiff as a board, his hands on his knees, and his knuckles white with how hard he was gripping.

“Hey,” Lance said. “You alright?”

Keith took a breath, but even Lance could see it was shallow. 

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. Say the word and I’ll drive back and we can stay somewhere else.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them and pushing out the door, nearly tripping in his haste.

Lance nodded to himself before following the telltale stomping to the diner entrance.

The place could have been a set from  _ Grease _ for all Lance knew. It looked like someone had put the entire place in a time capsule, quintessentially 1950s down to the worn vinyl booths, neon lights, and jukebox in the corner. He almost had to laugh at the disgruntled older woman glaring at them from behind the counter. 

She nodded to an empty booth, and Lance and Keith climbed in, sweaty legs already sticking to the seat. 

Keith still hadn’t said a word, but he was tapping at the table nervously, his back ramrod straight. He hadn’t even opened the absurdly large menu.

And so Lance kept up a steady chatter, hoping that maybe even a little of the tension would leave Keith’s shoulders, but when the waitress came over, Keith barely looked up as he murmured his order. 

Lance stared at Keith for a moment as the waitress walked away.

“You got a quarter?”

“Huh?”

“A quarter, Mullet,” Lance said. “For the jukebox?”

Keith tilted his head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why would I give you a quarter to play something I won’t like?”

Lance rolled his eyes and held out a hand. “You gonna give me one or not?”

Keith’s eyes narrowed, but he fished around his wallet and pulled out a quarter, reaching across the table to place it into Lance’s waiting palm. Lance tried not to notice the buzzing left behind by the brush of his fingertips. 

“Thanks, Mullet,” Lance smirked, peeling himself off the seat.

“Still not a mullet,” Keith murmured, and Lance grinned as he walked towards the jukebox.

It was an ancient thing, the most obvious indication of its age the fact that a song was only twenty-five cents, but Lance put his quarter in anyway and perused the song selection.

It clearly hadn’t been updated since 1986, given that the most recent song was “Livin’ On A Prayer”, but there were still some gems. 

Lance scanned past Elvis and Madonna, until his eyes alighted on one song in particular. He pushed the button, and a mid-tempo guitar jam floated out of the speakers. 

He turned and saw Keith staring at him as he walked back to the booth. 

As he scooted back in as gracefully as he could, he could see that Keith’s lips were barely parted, his eyes wide in surprise, but he soon shook himself out of it.

“Glad to see you didn’t waste my money,” he said with a smile over the little  _ pre-tty pre-tty pre-tty _ ’s of the Rolling Stones’ “Beast of Burden”. 

Lance tried to screw his face into an approximation of disgust, but even he could feel that he was off the mark. “Not so sure about that, but it  _ was _ your quarter.”

Keith shook his head. “I still don’t understand how you could hate the Stones.”

“And  _ I  _ don’t get how you don’t like Madonna, but here we are.”

“Irreconcilable differences?”

“Something like that.”

Keith planted his chin on his hand, and Lance was sure he would drown in Keith’s eyes, what with how he was staring at him, a dare he say fond look on his face. But at that moment, the waitress came back with their food, and the spell was broken.

So was the tension in Keith’s shoulders, so Lance didn’t really mourn the loss. 

***

After eating, Lance drove to the only motel in town, and he checked in while Keith pointed out the convenience store down the street.

Lance nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”

He chatted with the man at the desk for a bit while they waited for the old machine to program the keycards, and once he had them, he followed after Keith, not bothering to stop by the room yet. There was a look in Keith’s eye that had him...not worried exactly, but he wanted to make sure he was alright. 

He’d relaxed a bit at the diner, but not by much. Lance figured it probably wasn’t easy being back here after all those years, but that didn’t mean he had to go through it alone.

Keith was sitting on the curb when Lance approached. Lance peered into the plastic bag next to him and raised a brow at the six pack of beer and fifth of shitty, bottom-shelf tequila.

He didn’t say anything, though, as Keith stood up and started walking further down the street. He just trailed behind him as Keith led them on an obviously familiar path. 

They walked for a good ten minutes before coming to an empty playground, the place old and more than a little rusty. It really wasn’t much--a set of monkey bars, a slide, a seesaw, and two swings--but everything was made of that sturdy metal that seemed like it could survive the apocalypse. 

Keith beelined it to the swings, plopping down and grabbing the bottle of tequila by the neck, cracking it open before taking a large swig.

Lance followed, a little slowly, and more than a little concerned. But Keith didn’t shoo him away or tell him to get lost, so he sat on the swing next to him, the chains groaning in protest, but holding fast.

Keith held out the fifth, and Lance stared at it for a long moment before reaching out and grabbing it gently, taking a swig of his own.

He coughed, the stuff going down about as easily as drain cleaner. “So it’s that kind of night, is it?”

“This is where I was when I found out my dad died.”

Lance froze, his eyes wide, tequila bottle halfway to his mouth. 

“I was nine,” Keith said, his voice thick with emotion, “and he had to take the night shift. I told him I was old enough to be on my own, so he left me at home without a babysitter.” 

Soundlessly, Lance passed him the tequila, and Keith grabbed it and took another fortifying sip. 

“It was the first time I’d been by myself in the house at night, and it was so  _ quiet _ . So when I heard the stairs creak, I got scared, and I fucking bolted. Ran all the way here without stopping.”

Keith took a breath, and even Lance could tell it was shaky and shallow, but he forged on.

“Took them forever to find me. One of my neighbors apparently saw me run this way. I was sitting on this swing when they told me. They said he died a hero, rescuing a little girl.”

“Keith…” Lance reached out and, with the barest hesitation, he placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezed.

Keith passed the bottle back to him, and Lance took another swig.

“I’ve never come back here before. Never thought I was ready. But…” Keith looked up and caught Lance’s eyes, his own shiny with unshed tears. “With you, it just feels right. I know you’re not gonna judge me if I cry.”

Lance tried to speak around the lump that had lodged itself in his throat, and his voice caught as he said, “I would never judge you for that.”

Keith took a shuddering breath that Lance could feel in his own shoulders, and he leaned his head against Lance’s hand. 

Lance said nothing, even when he felt the first tears fall warm and wet on his hand. He just stayed put, balancing as best he could on the swing, not daring to pull away from Keith, who seemed so small as his body wracked with sobs.

He let Keith cry, offering nothing but a hand, but Keith clung to it like it was a lifeline. 

Eventually, the sobs turned into even breaths, and the last of his tears fell.

“Who would’ve thought,” Keith said, looking up with red-rimmed eyes, his voice thick, “that there’d be a day that  _ Lance McClain _ wouldn’t jump on the chance to judge me.”

A warmth bloomed deep in Lance’s belly at the level of trust Keith must have felt to bring him here, to be so vulnerable around him. 

“Oh believe me,” Lance said, playfully, but gently, shoving at Keith’s shoulder, “I’m still gonna judge you for your fashion sense. Seriously, Mullet? Fingerless gloves?”

Keith barked out a watery laugh and the weird melancholic spell that had settled over them broke. 

“It’s not a mullet,” Keith said around a smile, sniffling and wiping his nose.

In a moment of tequila-filled boldness, Lance moved his hand from where it was resting on Keith’s shoulder, up his neck and to the back of Keith’s head, where Lance brushed his fingers over the fade to thread in the longer hair at the top.

“At least there’s that,” Lance said softly.

Keith peered up at him from underneath his unfairly long lashes, a blush dusting his cheeks. And for a moment, Lance let himself believe that Keith was leaning forward ever so slightly, so he mirrored him.

But then Lance tipped forward, the swing overbalancing him, and he barely caught himself, the tequila sloshing over his hand.

He looked up to see Keith laughing, full-bellied and bright, and then suddenly  _ he _ was tipping over, almost falling off the back of the swing. 

Lance’s own laughter joined Keith’s, and he felt lighter than he had in a long time.

They traded the tequila back and forth until they couldn’t stand drinking it any longer, and Keith broke out the beers.

Lance had to laugh at the blue and white logo.

“You actually bought PBR willingly?”

Keith shrugged, popping open one of the cans and passing it to Lance before grabbing one of his own. “I was feeling nostalgic.”

He took a sip, and Lance snorted as his nose scrunched up.

“Oh god,” he said, squinting at the can. “That’s even worse than I remember.”

Lance took a taste of his own and tried his best to keep his face impassive, but apparently he didn’t succeed because Keith was laughing at him again. 

“Okay,” Lance said, “that’s pretty terrible. Even after the tequila.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but despite it all, he took another sip. “It’s an acquired taste. Kind of like you, actually.”

“And have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Acquired my taste.”

Keith snorted, and the sound set a pleasant buzzing in Lance’s stomach that couldn’t totally be blamed on the alcohol. “Is that supposed to be a line?”

Lance smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. “Why, do you want it to be?” 

That set Keith in a fit of giggles, and he nearly fell off his swing again, which set  _ Lance  _ off, which made him  _ actually  _ fall off his swing.

They stayed like that for a while, trading bad lines and laughter, and suddenly they were down several beers, and everything felt bright despite the darkness of the world around them.

Lance stayed sprawled out on the ground, not bothering to get up, letting the silence settle around them. The sky sparkled overhead, more stars than Lance ever remembered seeing before twinkling out from the black expanse.

“I’m significant,” Lance whispered.

“What?” Keith turned his head to look down at Lance, his face shadowed, but Lance could have sworn his eyes were as dark as the sky above.

“Oh,” Lance said. “It’s a quote from  _ Calvin and Hobbes _ .”

“The comic strip?” Keith asked.

Lance nodded. “I always used to check out those giant complete collection books from the library. I’m pretty sure the librarian knew I was the one who accidentally ripped the cover, but she could never prove it.”

Keith snorted. “Of course not.”

“Hey,” Lance said, raising an imperious finger. “I was a model library goer.”

“Uh huh,” Keith said. “That’s why you ripped a cover.”

“ _ As I was saying _ ,” Lance said, pointedly ignoring Keith, “I used to read those comics all the time. There’s one where Calvin’s staring up at the stars and he says ‘I’m significant, screamed the dust speck.’” Lance turned back to stare up at the stars. “I didn’t understand it when I first read it, but for some reason, it spoke to me. I think I get it now.”

“That we’re small and insignificant?”

“Kind of?” Lance reached a hand up and gestured at the sky. “More like, in the vastness of the infinite universe, our actions are so small, but so are our mistakes.”

Keith hummed. “That’s kind of bleak. Thinking that we don’t matter.”

“I don’t think we don’t matter. I think...it means we matter more. Our place in the universe is so small, but that just means we have to make our own significance. Our own happiness.”

Keith was quiet next to him, the creak of the swing the only indication that he was still there.

“I’m significant,” Keith said quietly, and Lance smiled.

“I’m significant,” he echoed, louder.

“I’m significant!” Keith shouted.

Lance took a deep breath, and bellowed. “I’M SIGNIFICANT!” 

“Shhhhh,” Keith tried to say, but he was giggling too much for it to come out. “Do you want people to call the cops on us?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Why? It’s not like we were playing the penis game or anything. Ooh, let’s play the penis game. Penis!”

Keith scrambled off his swing and onto the ground below, spraying mulch everywhere as he shoved on top of Lance, covering his mouth with his hand. 

“Will you shut up?” Keith said between bouts of laughter.

Lance licked Keith’s hand, and Keith let go reflexively, leaving Lance open to yelling, “PENIS!” at the top of his lungs.

Keith was cracking up too much to really do anything other than fall over on top of him, and Lance felt every breath, every rumble of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous,” Keith said when he’d finally caught his breath. He’d pushed up so that he was hovering over Lance, and Lance’s eyes were roving over every detail, trying to drink it all in--the red still rimmed around Keith’s shining eyes, the flush on his cheeks, the quirk of his mouth.

He caught on that last one most of all.

“I’m an acquired taste,” Lance whispered, and it was so dark, but he could still see Keith’s eyes dart down and back up, and the air felt heavy and charged, like the sky before a lightning strike.

And then Keith was leaning down as Lance was tilting up, and Lance’s eyes were just fluttering shut when a car horn sounded, startling them both apart.

“Uh--”

“We should--”

“Head back?”

Keith nodded, shoving away, pushing up onto his feet and brushing the mulch off his knees before offering a hand to Lance.

Lance took it without hesitation, shocked to feel skin-against-skin. He hadn’t even noticed Keith had taken off his gloves.

Keith hauled him up, and Lance swayed, the world spinning around him.

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely time to head back,” Lance said, placing a hand against the pole of the swing set to steady himself. 

Behind him, Keith grabbed the empty cans and the mostly-empty bottle of tequila, shoving them into the plastic bag. His hands were just a little clumsy and his feet a little unsteady, and Lance felt relieved he wasn’t the only one feeling the three beers and several shots worth of tequila.

Lance pointed in the direction he thought the motel was in. “Lead the way, my good sir!”

“Probably a good idea.” Keith snorted, and directed Lance’s finger to the opposite side of the street. “Considering our motel is this way.”

“I knew that,” Lance said primly, but he still waited for Keith to start walking before lurching after him.

“You really didn’t.”

***

The walk back took significantly longer than the walk there, but by the time they stumbled back to the motel, the cool night air had sobered them both up a little bit, enough for Lance to realize he’d have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

Admittedly, it took a few tries with the key, but they finally managed to make it inside, flicking on the light, but they were barely over the threshold before Lance stopped in his tracks, staring.

“What are you--oh.”

There, in the middle of their room, was one lone queen bed.

Lance slid his eyes over to Keith, not wanting to see the look of anger he had all those days ago.

But instead Keith looked at Lance and sputtered out a laugh. 

“Of fucking course you only got one bed,” Keith said, rolling his eyes, but making his way over to the bed and plopping down face first, still fully clothed, boots and all. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Lance said, rushing over and trying to pull the surprisingly heavy Keith off the bed. “You’re covered in mulch, and you’ve still got your shoes on!”

Keith groaned and refused to budge. 

Lance narrowed his eyes, loosening his grip on Keith’s arm and letting it flop against the bed. But the way Keith was starfished on the comforter gave him an idea…

Without warning, he reached forward, and poked at Keith in the ribs.

Keith leapt up like he’d just been electrocuted “Fucking hell, Lance!”

Lance laughed so hard that he had to catch himself on the wall behind him. 

He looked up to see Keith glaring at him, but Lance knew him well enough by now to recognize the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Come here,” Lance said once he had caught his breath, motioning clumsily with his hands.

“Why?” 

“So I can get the mulch off of you, genius.”

Keith eyed his open hands with understandable wariness. 

“I won’t tickle you, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Keith said, even as he stepped forward, turning around so his back was facing Lance.

Lance rolled his eyes and began brushing the lingering pieces of mulch off of the dark t-shirt with what he hoped was clinical precision. He ignored the sharp intake of breath when he reached Keith’s backside, but you couldn’t really blame him when he gave an extra pass or two.

“Alright,” Lance said, stepping back. “I think you’re done.”

Keith turned around, and Lance’s eyes immediately travelled up to meet Keith’s, the barest hint of  _ something  _ sparkling in them.

“Now do me,” Lance said suddenly, turning around and presenting his own back to Keith.

There was a moment’s hesitation where Lance could feel Keith’s hand hovering over his shoulder before touching down. He tried his best not to arch into Keith’s surprisingly gentle touch.

“I bet you say that to all the boys. And girls.”

Lance looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Only the ones I like.”

A pretty blush spread across Keith’s cheeks, and Lance laughed. 

“You’re drunk.”

Lance shrugged, turning back to face the wall. “So are you.”

Keith hummed, his hands resuming their near-caress as they made their way down Lance’s back. 

They stopped just above Lance’s waistband, hovering just over the slight divot in his spine.

“Come on,” Lance teased, wiggling a little when Keith gave no indication that he was going to move down. “I know you’ve always wanted to get your hands on this.”

“Your flat ass?” Keith scoffed. “In your dreams, Loverboy.”

Lance gave an indignant squawk and nearly missed the moment when Keith’s hand barely brushed against his ass, trying to dislodge the last bits of mulch clinging to his shorts.

“There,” Keith said, stepping back. 

Lance twisted around, spinning once, like that would give him a better view of his back.

“I got it all, don’t worry,” Keith said, dropping down on the bed before yanking off his boots.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Lance said as he walked to the other side of the bed and toed off his own shoes. “If I wake up with a splinter, though, I’m blaming you.”

He shucked off his shorts, leaving him in only his soft t-shirt and boxers, and he yanked down the covers before slipping under them. 

Keith mirrored him, fighting with the impossibly tight top sheet before settling in.

Lance turned and reached for the lamp, flicking the light off and leaving them in darkness.

Even though they weren’t touching, Lance was hyper-aware of the body laying next to him, of every soft breath Keith took. 

Lance turned over on his side, and suddenly, he was facing Keith, their gazes snapping together like magnets.

Lance’s breath caught as he stared into Keith’s eyes, and the distance between them felt both too great and too small at the same time. 

“What you said earlier,” Lance whispered. “About going back there. I just…it feels right with you, too.”

Keith smiled sleepily, his eyes half-closed, but he reached over anyways and brushed his knuckles gently against Lance’s cheek. 

And that was the last thing Lance remembered before giving in to the inexorable pull of sleep.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who leaves comments and/or kudos. They really do make my day.
> 
> Next update might take a bit longer, but I hope it's well worth it.
> 
> Until next chapter! <3333


	5. how you wish it would be all the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance have always been about the push-pull. But this time, Keith pushes, and Lance pulls away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS--I'M ALIVE I PROMISE
> 
> At first, it was an ugly combination of finals and writer's block that kept me from finishing this, and then I had a crazy amazing opportunity this summer, so that was prioritized, but REST ASSURED, I'M BACK.
> 
> This time, I have to give a big big thank you to [invisiblink](http://invisiblink.tumblr.com) for coming in clutch as my beta. She's been a godsend, and I'm working with her to keep improving this fic, so watch out for minor and not-so-minor updates to previous chapters in the coming weeks.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. I'm really proud of this, and I'm glad I didn't try and put it out when it wasn't ready.
> 
> Chapter title from [Ribs by Lorde](https://open.spotify.com/track/2MvvoeRt8NcOXWESkxWn3g?si=VgYve2ywRW6GxFi8f0v7kA) because--well, it's Ribs by Lorde.

**Day Five**

Lance woke slowly, the stirrings of consciousness dragging him out of the warmth he’d burrowed into. His mouth was dry and the beginnings of a headache were just starting to pound against his skull.

He sighed and tried to stretch out, but startled when he found that the heaviness in his limbs wasn’t due to his own sleepiness.

Over the course of the night, Keith had curled up against Lance’s chest, his hand fisted around Lance’s old concert tee, and their legs tangled together. 

Lance couldn’t stop the snort of laughter from escaping when he realized that Keith scowled in his sleep. 

Keith must have also been on the verge of waking because he began to stir then, blinking blearily up at Lance.

Lance could see the moment his eyes cleared, when he realized their...predicament.

“Um…”

“G’morning,” Lance said with a cheeky grin.

Keith’s fist tightened around Lance’s shirt as his eyes scanned over Lance’s face. “...morning.” 

Lance laughed again, and Keith’s scowl deepened. 

“I had no idea you were such a cuddle bug,” Lance said, tapping at Keith’s arm. “No wonder you didn’t want to share a bed with me before.”

“Shut up,” Keith grumbled, glaring at Lance.

“Ooh, you’re grumpy in the morning, anyone ever tell you that?” 

“And you’re annoying.”

“You and I both know that’s not restricted to mornings.” 

Lance peered down at Keith and saw the telltale twitch of his mouth right before he finally broke, burying his head in Lance’s chest and giggling softly. Lance’s heart raced at the sensation.

“How the fuck are you so cheery right now?” Keith asked. “I think there’s tequila aftertaste in my brain.”

Lance shrugged as much as he could with his arms still wrapped around Keith. “Oh believe me, I am so fucking hungover. If you accidentally elbow me one more time, I might vomit.”

“Oh shit, sorry,” Keith said, seeming to realize that he was still all up in Lance’s personal space, and tried to scramble off. 

“Nuh-uh, Mullet,” Lance said, pulling Keith into his side once again. “Get back here.” 

“Uh…”

“You started this cuddle party, but I’ll decide when we end it.”

Keith stilled, and Lance could feel the breath he took the moment before he spoke again.

“...this is really weird.”

“Yup.”

“You’re really weird.”

“Is that supposed to be news?”

“Hey, Lance?”

Lance looked down, but he wasn’t prepared to see Keith peering up at him, to see every detail of those damn eyes---the gentle swoop of Keith’s surprisingly long eyelashes, still encrusted with a little bit of sleep dust; how his irises, normally blue and purple and grey, were mere slivers ringed around wide, dark pupils; the way they glistened and seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the room.

His next words were understandably breathless.

 “Yeah, Keith?”

A brief flicker in Keith’s eyes, a quick glance down to his lips and up again was all the warning Lance got before Keith was leaning up, pressing his mouth to Lance’s. 

Lance would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about kissing Keith before. It was a thought that had haunted him almost from the instant that they’d first met. There had been so many times that, in the midst of yelling at him, Lance would think about shutting him up with a hard bite to his infuriating lips, stilling that sharp tongue. But Lance had always dismissed it, tossed the thought aside instead and doubling down on whatever pointless argument they’d been having. 

Lately, though, those thoughts had morphed from aggressive heat and anger to something softer, slower, more tender. A smoldering heat, a smooth slide of lips against lips, a seeking tongue. 

Neither of Lance’s daydreams had prepared him for the reality of it.

Kissing Keith was surprising and contradictory, not unlike the boy himself. His lips were shockingly soft and pliant, but there was a hardness to his kiss, Keith pressing himself against Lance in a show of conviction in his impulsiveness. 

Before Lance really knew what he was doing, he found himself kissing back. 

Despite the massive headache throbbing at the back of his skull, despite the fact that he was sure his breath reeked of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and despite still tasting tequila on his tongue, Lance thought that no other kiss he’d ever had came close to this one.

And shit, it was everything he’d ever wanted, what he hadn’t known he’d needed. It felt like a dam breaking, one that had been built carefully over the course of six years, and one that had just started to come down. 

_ Finally _ . 

The thought echoed in Lance’s head, but he brushed it aside. He shouldn’t be thinking, shouldn’t have a single coherent thought in his head, not when Keith was moving his hand up Lance’s torso like that, not when he was just starting to explore Lance’s mouth.

But it was too late. Lance’s thoughts had fallen like dominos, spiralling until he yanked back from Keith. He pushed him away, and their lips separated with a soft  _ pop!  _ at odds with the near violence of Lance’s movements.

“No, I can’t do this.”

The furrow was back in Keith’s brow, his eyes roving over Lance’s face. “Lance, what--”

“I can’t fucking  _ do this _ with you.” 

Keith’s expression went from puzzled to angry, and it almost made Lance want to take it back, to forget all the doubts circling in his brain like vultures and just kiss him. Almost.

“What the hell does that mean?!”

“Oh, you’re playing with  _ my _ emotions and  _ you’re _ the one who’s angry?”

“Where the fuck did you get  _ that  _ idea?!”

Lance laughed--a cruel, humorless thing. “Oh please, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. Taking advantage of my feelings just because I happen to be close. Real classy, Mullet.”

“Are we really doing this again?” Keith sat up fully and crossed his arms, closing himself off in a way Lance didn’t realize he hadn’t done since they started this trip. “I told you before, I’m done taking the blame for your insecurities. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to use you.”

“Then what the hell do you call this?!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lance, it’s just a kiss!” 

And suddenly, Lance’s shoulders deflated along with his anger, and all that was left was sadness.

“Exactly.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer Keith had been expecting, because his own thunderous expression relaxed into something more like confusion. “I don’t follow.”

Lance took a breath, running his hand through his hair, fighting with his reluctance to confront anything resembling his own emotions, but Keith had been vulnerable with him last night on the swings. Lance could be vulnerable with him now.

“It...it can’t be just a kiss. Not for me,” Lance said, quiet, before glancing up to meet Keith’s piercing gaze. “Not with you.”

“Why not?”

The question was an honest one, no note of judgement laced through it, but Lance still clenched his jaw and looked down at his trembling hands. He pretended tears weren’t blurring his vision.

“Because I like you, Keith,” Lance said finally. “A lot more than I probably should. I-I...I think I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“Lance…” Keith reached out, taking Lance’s shaky hand in his and interlacing their fingers. “If you’re worried about me feeling the same way, don’t be. I’ve kind of had a major crush on you since sophomore year. Just ask Shiro.”

Lance laughed again, a loud outburst of disbelief. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

Keith shook his head and gave him that small smile, sending Lance’s heart swooping. “Why do you think Shiro made us study together all those times?”

“Seriously?”

Keith nodded, squeezing Lance’s hand.

“Fuck,” Lance said. “You’re making it so difficult for me to not kiss you senseless.”

Keith let go of Lance’s hand then, instead bringing his hands up to gently cup Lance’s face and using his thumb to wipe away a tear that had been finding its way down Lance’s cheek. “What’s stopping you?”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, tearing his gaze away from Keith’s and turning his head to break Keith’s hold on him. 

“You said it yourself, Keith. We’re headed in the same direction, and right now, that’s a good thing. But what happens when that stops being true? What am I supposed to do when I drop you off in the middle of the desert and never see you again?”

“Lance--”

“If I kiss you now, if I let myself like you the way I really  _ really _ want to...I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive away.”

Lance took another shaky breath, glancing back up at Keith. His eyes were wide, his lips, which Lance now knew were unfairly soft, parted slightly. 

“So you see, it’s not just a kiss. It can’t be. Not if it’s with you.” 

Keith stared at him, and each second Lance spent trying to puzzle out that inscrutable expression was excruciating. He resisted the urge to look away.

“Okay,” Keith said finally, giving a little nod.

Lance knit his brows together. “That’s all you have to say? ‘Okay’?”

“What else am I supposed to say? That I disagree? That I’ve liked you for so long that every second I’m not kissing you is a waste of six years of doing nothing?”

“Keith--”

“No.” Keith held up a hand. “You got to talk. Now it’s my turn.”

Lance’s jaw snapped shut.

“I know we’re going our separate ways soon, but god, Lance. I  _ like  _ you. I like being around you, hearing you talk, seeing how you bounce on your toes every time you’re excited, and--lord help me--I even like listening to you sing along to your horrible road trip music. I feel like I’ve spent so much time just waiting for you to notice how badly I wanted you to like me, and now...now, I feel like I’m finally brave enough to actually do something about it.”

Lance couldn’t breathe. Keith wasn’t much for words, but now that he’d started, it seemed like he couldn’t stop. And his words paralyzed Lance.

“I can’t pretend I completely understand why you don’t want to do this, because, to me, I want to make the most of what time we have left together. But I’ll respect your wishes.”

Keith looked deep into Lance’s eyes. 

“It’s not just a kiss to me, either.”

Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Lance’s cheek, catching another tear with his unfairly soft lips.

Both too soon and not soon enough, Keith pulled away, turning to climb out of the bed, but Lance grabbed his wrist.

“Keith, I--”

“It’s okay,” he said, and Lance could barely stand to hear the heartbreak in his voice. “At least I got to kiss you once.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, his heart thudding in his chest as he steeled himself for what he was about to do. 

“Twice,” Lance said, opening his eyes.

“What?”

Lance leaned forward slowly until he could feel Keith’s breath fanning his cheeks, not daring to look away from those indigo eyes. “You get to kiss me twice.”

“Lance, you don’t have to--”

Lance placed his hands gently on either side of Keith’s face, tilting his head as he began to close the distance between them, stopping just millimeters from his mouth. 

“Shut up and let me kiss you, Mullet.”

“Not a mullet,” Keith murmured, and Lance captured those words on his lips like he’d wanted to since the moment Keith uttered them.

Lance kissed him like he deserved to be kissed, with all the enthusiasm of someone who’d been waiting six goddamn years for this, like Keith was the only water in this damn desert. And for that moment, that long, beautiful moment, Lance let himself forget that their days were numbered. He let himself forget that soon Keith would be no more than a speck in his rearview mirror. He let himself forget everything but the soft glide of Keith’s lips, the nip of his teeth, and the feel of his tongue.

He drew it out as long as possible, kissing Keith until he was dizzy, until his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, until he had to shatter the precious bubble they’d put themselves in.

He pulled away with a gasp, but he didn’t go far. He just pressed his forehead against Keith’s, gulping in shuddering breaths and refusing to open his eyes.

“That was one hell of a kiss,” Keith said, and Lance didn’t have to look to know that Keith was wearing that small smile of his, the one that teased at the corner of his mouth.

“Had to give you something to remember me by, didn’t I?”

“Trust me, you’re not so easy to forget.”

Lance sighed but didn’t pull away. “This is what I was afraid of.”

“What?”

“That once I knew what it was like to kiss you, I’d never stop wanting to.”

Lance was close enough that he could feel the breath catching in Keith’s throat.

“Do you regret it?”

“Not for a second,” Lance whispered before pulling reluctantly away. “Now come on. The little hangover gremlin that’s taken up residence in my brain is demanding coffee.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“Yeah, yeah. You like it.”

Keith glared at him, but Lance could still see the smile behind his eyes.

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

***

Part of Lance had believed that, like in all the movies he’d ever watched, a kiss would break the tension between him and Keith, but instead, there seemed to be even more crackling between them. If before, Lance had felt a spark of electricity at the barest brush of hands as they were walking, now he felt a lightning bolt.

Every touch, every glance reminded Lance of the buzzing lingering on his lips and the feel of Keith’s hands tangled in his hair. 

He knew this would happen, but Lance stood by what he’d said. He didn’t regret any of it.

Though, it didn’t make sitting across from each other in complete silence any less awkward.

Lance tapped at the plastic menu covering, eyes roving over the seemingly endless list of items without absorbing any of it. He looked up, trying to steal a glance across the table, but instead his eyes met Keith’s, and he froze.

Keith tilted his head and gave Lance a curious expression.

“What?” Lance asked.

“Got a quarter?”

“Huh?”

Keith just raised a brow, and soundlessly, Lance reached into his pocket and drew out a coin.

“Use it well,” Lance said as Keith took it and walked towards the corner with the jukebox.

“I won’t,” Keith called back, and Lance huffed out a laugh.

After a moment, the iconic synthpop intro to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” began playing, and Lance smiled. 

Keith slid back into the booth, and Lance grinned at him. 

“Tell me, how badly did it hurt your soul to play this song?”

“I feel like I just willingly stuck a knife in my ear,” Keith grumbled. 

“Willingly being the operative word.”

“Don’t push it.”

Lance laughed, and Keith kicked playfully at his feet. 

“Hey hey hey,” Lance said, clutching at his coffee cup. “Watch the goods. This is the only thing standing between you and a very grumpy Lance.”

Keith raised a brow. “Something tells me that I can handle that.”

“Yeah, I suppose you can.”

***

Although it had been less than a day, climbing into the car, Lance felt like it had been much longer than that. So much had happened between taking the exit and packing up again, and it was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, Lance hadn’t known that Keith’s lips were soft and chapped, or that his past continued to haunt him.

Or that Keith had liked him for a long time.

That thought kept circling in Lance’s mind over and over again, like a skipping record.

It just wasn’t possible. Lance and Keith, neck and neck--that was how it had always been. Lance felt like some kind of universal law had just been violated, like someone told him that the world didn’t spin on an axis, or that gravity no longer applied.

But there it was, the slight bruising on his lips proving that it  _ was _ possible.

Lance tapped the steering wheel.

“So…” Keith said. “Are we gonna talk about this or no?”

Lance looked over at Keith. “What?”

“I can see you overthinking this. I just figured, maybe you’d wanna talk.”

“Do  _ you _ ?”

There was a long pause before Keith spoke again.

“Actually, yeah, I do.”

_ That  _ took Lance by surprise. 

“Are you serious?”

Lance could practically hear the frown in Keith’s voice. “Believe it or not, it does happ--”

“ _ In half a mile, take the exit _ ,” Siri’s voice piped up from the speakers.

Lance blinked. He’d almost forgotten where he was, the yellow-red dusty desert landscape blurring his vision.

He’d almost forgotten what this whole trip was actually about.

Lance slid into the right lane, following the brown signs for the national parks. He didn’t say anything, but then again, neither did Keith.

“ _ You have arrived at your destination. _ ”

Wordlessly, Lance parked, turning off the engine and letting the silence of the air conditioning fill the air before pushing out of the car.

“Woah.”

Stretched out before him was an alien landscape. The ground was dry and rocky, like it had been everywhere else, but instead of the dusty yellow-orange of the rest of the Arizona desert, this looked like someone had taken a paintbrush to it, staining the ground with swaths of colors. Dusky lavenders, heather blues, and bright oranges were striated across the rocky outcroppings, and vibrant reds and yellows punctuated the landscape dotted with fallen petrified trees.

“You know,” Keith said from where he was standing next to Lance, “I’ve been here so many times, but it still takes me by surprise.”

Lance hummed, still staring out across the Painted Desert. He wasn’t sure he could bear to look at Keith right now--he couldn’t trust his eyes not to wander and linger on his lips, couldn’t trust himself not to ache with the need to pull him closer and explore this new thing he felt sparking between them. He certainly couldn’t trust his heart not to break.

“Come on,” Keith said. “This way.”

He turned and started walking up one of the marked trails, leaving Lance to follow, sliding a bit in his shoes as he scrambled up the steep path after him.

By the time they reached the top, Lance was panting in the thin air and the dry heat.

“This had better be worth it,” Lance grumbled.

“I think it might be.”

Lance looked up and caught his breath, the landscape looking even more stunning from the higher vantage point. In the distance, he could spot the entrance to the interstate, the cars driving right past one of the most beautiful places Lance had ever seen.

“Okay, this is worth it.”

Keith chuckled, and Lance stole a glance, just to see the way he ducked his head and tried to hide his smile.

“Knew you’d think so.”

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

Keith shrugged. “I told you, I’ve always paid attention.”

“Keith…”

“I still want to talk,” Keith said in a rush. “Can we talk?”

Lance was quiet. He’d been doing that a lot lately--being quiet. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“What else is there to say?” he said finally.

Keith turned his piercing gaze on Lance once more. 

“Thank you.”

“You’ve been thanking me an awful lot on this trip,” Lance said. “What’s it for this time?”

“Lots of things. For being there for me last night on the playground. For not shoving me away the moment I tried to kiss you…” Keith took a breath. “For kissing me a second time, even though it hurt you. For letting me know what it could have been like.”

Lance couldn’t breathe. He was pinned by the sincerity in Keith’s eyes.

“It was selfish of me,” Keith continued. “To let you do that. I never should have kissed you in the first place.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I’m scared, Lance. I’m scared of what’s at the end of the road, of what I’m going to find at my mother’s place. I’m so tired of ghosts, and I’m tired of not knowing what the future holds, and I’m so goddamn tired of being scared. I wanted something real.”

“Do you regret it?” Lance asked, a perfect echo of Keith’s question.

Keith shook his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Not even a little. Is that bad?”

Lance reached out and wrapped his hands around Keith’s clenched fists, gently, tentatively tangling their fingers together, hiding the slight shaking in a hesitant touch.

“No, Keith. I wanted something real, too.”

***

They never stopped holding hands.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless reminder to leave comments and/or kudos. It really does make my day, and it encourages me not to give up, so.
> 
> Also, I'd like to take this time to say thank you to every single one of you lovely readers. It's been a year since my biggest fic, [For you are mine at last](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623001), was posted, and your endless support on that and many other fics has meant so much to me over the past year. Seriously. Thank you <3333.


	6. all my edges are exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Six
> 
> The end is fast approaching, and Lance grapples with how badly he doesn't want it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I know it's been a hot minute, but I wanted to make sure that, because this was going to be a short update anyway, I had enough of the next day written that I wouldn't make you guys wait *too* long. So here we are.
> 
> I know I probably shouldn't be posting this at midnight on a Thursday, but oh well. Notes? External validation? Who cares about that.
> 
> Anyway! I'm sorry to say that this update is *short* but it'll all be worth it, I promise!
> 
> My eternal thanks again to [Jenna](https://www.invisiblink.tumblr.com) for being a champion beta
> 
> Without further ado, here's Day Six!
> 
> Song title from [Broken Open by Cold War Kids](https://open.spotify.com/track/2NdyNtBaGtt7dWFPbyRzNs?si=5OBV_6PYTXKE_zqmFaVp3A)

**Day Six**

They had crawled into Flagstaff in the very late evening the previous night, neither of them wanting to leave the easy peace that had settled once more between them. 

But no matter how perfectly Keith’s hand had seemed to fit in his, Lance had to keep moving forward. It wasn’t much of a road trip if they weren’t on the road, after all.

Lance’s alarm went off way too early, but they crawled out of bed and into the car, setting off down winding roads covered in fog, pine trees peeking out like sentinel giants.

They saw the first few signs for the Grand Canyon, a line of cars already queued up.

After spending the previous afternoon at the Petrified Forest, the Grand Canyon felt less like a place of profound natural beauty and more like an overcrowded tourist destination filled with screaming kids.

“Come on,” Keith said, pulling Lance along the well-paved walkway, stomping his signature boots in his typical determined stride, weaving them around large tour groups and families with strollers.

Lance shook his head and followed. 

***

He could almost  _ feel  _ the moment the canyon became visible.

At this elevation, the summer air was cool and dry, a slight breeze daring to ruffle the wispy curls at his forehead. As Lance stepped forward, his breath caught and the surrounding noise died down.

Stretched out before him was a landscape so beautiful that he had a hard time believing it was real. The Colorado River roared rapid and muddy so far below that it made Lance dizzy. The strata cut so far and so deep that the colors had turned muted and hazy. Peering down, Lance saw the more tenacious pines peeking out, the occasional flicker of movement of an elk or a bird flashing in the corner of his eye.

“I get it now.”

Next to him, Keith hummed in agreement. “Kind of hard not to.”

Lance pulled out his phone, sliding the camera app open. “Who knew the Grand Canyon was so picturesque?”

“Certainly not that family over there in matching shirts, taking professional photos.”

“Oh definitely not them.”

***

They wandered the paved paths, venturing out on the outlooks, Lance snapping all the photos his phone would allow, trying to get as few tourists in as possible.

Lance kept trying to capture the feeling of being there, of the sheer scale of what he was seeing, but the photos could never do it justice. Hell if that would stop him from trying, though.

In the middle of what had to have been his thousandth photo, he felt a gentle tug on his hands.

He turned to see Keith smiling softly at him, pulling his phone down.

“Just take it in,” Keith whispered, and Lance nodded, turning his eyes back towards the river below.

Despite the tourists milling about, and despite the sound of a thousand languages clamoring against his ears, looking out at the vastness, Lance felt alone. He felt alone and so, so small.

All at once, his eyes began to well up, and tears threatened to spill over. He blinked, and one made its way slowly down his cheek.

He didn’t turn when Keith grabbed his hand, entangling their fingers in a way that felt dangerously familiar.

“I’m significant,” Keith whispered.

“I’m significant,” Lance choked out.

***

Just a few days ago, Lance would have been hard-pressed to point out the difference between Keith being quiet and Keith being...well, Keith, but somehow in a short time, Lance knew enough about him to know he was being  _ quiet _ .

They’d been strolling along the paved pathway along the edge of the canyon, Lance stopping every few yards to take a few more pictures. He’d even roped Keith into taking a dramatic photo of him for his profile. 

Beyond giving a ghost of a smile, however, Keith hadn’t reacted.

“So…” Lance said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Whether that was to minimize awkward gesturing or to try and forget the feeling of Keith’s hand in his, he couldn’t say. “Are you ready to go?”

Keith sighed, clearly reading the double meaning in Lance’s question.

“No.” He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

This time, Lance couldn’t stop the urge to reach out and place a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Are you sure this is what you want? Like I said before, say the word and I’ll turn back. No questions asked.”

Keith stopped walking and looked up to meet Lance’s gaze. Lance could see the conflict warring in his blue-grey eyes.

“No…no, I want to do this. I  _ have _ to do this. For myself.”

Lance ran his hand from Keith’s shoulder, down his arm, gripping his wrist gently. “Can I tell you something? Something you might not want to hear?”

Keith huffed out a laugh. “After yesterday, I think I can handle it.”

Lance couldn’t help the knowing little smile from crossing his face. Keith was right--after yesterday, this conversation almost seemed easy. 

“Blood doesn’t mean jack shit. And look, I know this is important to you, and it’s really great that your birth mom reached out. I know you want to know where you came from, but coming from someone who’s had his family history lorded over him his whole life...it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes...well, sometimes, it can be worse.”

“I know.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand, and Lance felt all the sympathy and understanding in that tight grip. “And I know that meeting her won’t magically make all the pain she’s caused disappear, that you can’t fix abandonment issues with an email. But I know that I’ll regret it if I don’t go.”

“Okay,” Lance said. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Just...can we stay? Just a little while longer?”

Lance nodded. He understood that desperation, that need to just exist. No pressure. Despite it all, Keith had wormed his way into his life, and he was too eager to cling to the last vestiges of normalcy between them. 

***

When they climbed back in the car a couple of hours later, there was a sense of finality to it, and when the door slammed shut, the sound rang dull in Lance’s ears.

When the rumble of the engine wasn’t loud enough to stifle his thoughts, Lance turned up the radio.

This time, as they cruised down the highway, Keith didn’t yell at him for going too slow, and he didn’t stop Lance from playing his road trip playlist.

They sang loudly as if to drown out the fast-approaching ending.

***

By the time they got into town several hours later, the sun had long-since set, and the desert night was cool enough to make Lance shiver.

The motel was cheap, but clean, and Keith asked for two beds.

Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

As they settled in for the night, no words passed between them, the air heavy with silence. 

“Good night,” Lance whispered as he turned out the lights.

Keith didn’t respond, and Lance sighed, clutching a pillow tightly to his chest.

Long after Lance assumed that Keith was asleep, he heard the telltale hitch in his breathing.

“Lance?”

Lance turned over to peer at Keith.

“Yeah?”

“Do you...do you think she’ll like me?”

Lance’s heart clenched at the cracks in Keith’s voice, and he swallowed his own tears.

“I think she’s gonna love you.”

“But why? Why would she, when she didn’t love me enough to stay?”

Before Lance knew what he was doing, he was getting up, dragging his pillow with him, and gently turning Keith so he could crawl into bed next to him.

“What--”

Lance silenced him by reaching out and taking him in his arms. “Shhh, I’m cuddling you.”

“Lance--”

“She’s gonna love you because you’re funny, and kind, and surprisingly sweet underneath all that mullet--”

Keith barked out a laugh, murmuring, “Still not a mullet,” under his breath, but Lance just wrapped his arms tighter around Keith. 

“And determined. Not to mention smart as hell. And if, somehow, after knowing all of this, she still doesn’t love you, then...then she doesn’t deserve you. Because you’re amazing, Keith. And you deserve to be loved.”

Lance didn’t say anything as Keith clutched his t-shirt tightly, tears soaking into the fabric.

He pressed his lips to Keith’s forehead, squeezing his eyes shut against the flood of his own tears.

“You deserve to be loved.”

***

They fell asleep like that, their legs tangled together, Keith’s hand on Lance’s heart.

As Lance was drifting off, he thought he heard Keith’s quiet whisper, but he couldn’t quite make out the words.

He might have said, “I think I could love you.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is short, but I didn't really want to make it artificially longer just for the sake of making it longer, ya know? And I hope to have the next chapter to you within the month, but it's the Big One, and I want to do it right. I hope you all will stick around for it! We’re on the homestretch, folks! Just one more chapter and then an epilogue 😱
> 
> As always, I love and cherish literally every kudos, and especially every comment. To those who comment regularly, you have my sword. Thank you <3333
> 
> See you all (hopefully) soon!
> 
> P.S. I made a [twitter](https://twitter.com/thetolkiengeek), so if you so please, you can follow me on there......I've got a few headcanons and updates, and I'm trying to get better at it.


	7. won't you stay shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets his mother, and, for better or for worse, their journey comes to an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, y'all. The final chapter.
> 
> There are too many people to thank here, but right now, I just want to send a huge shoutout to Jenna ([@invisiblink](http://invisiblink.tumblr.com)) for agreeing to beta my fic in her free time even though she's been crazy busy. You're the real MVP <3
> 
> There aren't content warnings so much as a general angst-ish warning? Keith meets his mom and they have a pretty serious conversation, but it shouldn't be much more angst than what I've had earlier.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here's Day Seven (plus)
> 
> Chapter title from [Next In Line by Walk The Moon](https://open.spotify.com/track/2RSVYvx9kGLbyyJ4bmRMbc?si=TMXIlMtCR2KDmuM16pnVHg)

**Day Seven**

When Lance awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed and the sound of the water running, but the space next to him still felt warm.

Lance rolled into it, breathing deeply the neutral scent of the motel detergent and the barest trace of Keith’s shampoo on the pillow.

This was it, this was all Lance was going to get, so he didn’t feel quite so bad about savoring every spare bit of Keith he could.

Despite his best efforts, Keith had wormed his way into Lance’s heart and taken up residence in it like he’d always meant to be there. And part of Lance wondered if he’d made room in there for him, all those years ago.

But Keith was leaving. Today. And though Lance couldn’t bear the thought, he’d have to.

Because Keith needed him to be there for him, so he would be, even if it meant breaking his own heart.

“Oh hey, you’re up,” Keith said, stepping out of the bathroom, looking like a dream, steam billowing out behind him, and his hair delightfully towel-fluffed. “I wasn’t expecting you awake for another hour at least.”

It took a moment, but Lance felt himself once more on familiar ground and rolled his eyes.

“I sleep through class  _ one time _ \--”

“One time? Lance, I think you missed section at least twice a month.”

“Sure, but I only slept through  _ lecture  _ once.”

“That was at two in the afternoon!”

Lance shrugged, conceding the point. “I need my beauty sleep. Sue me.”

“You’re gonna need more than a few extra hours to get rid of those bags under your eyes.”

Lance threw the pillow.

Keith ducked and laughed, and Lance couldn’t help but notice the slight note of strain in it.

He could recognize the stall tactics a mile away--he’d spent years perfecting them himself, after all--but he was reluctant to call attention to them. If he could make Keith forget about what was waiting for him today, he’d count that as a win.

The fact that this happened to help him ignore his own worries was a total coincidence, a complete accident. He wasn’t avoiding his own problems by projecting onto someone else. No siree. 

“Go take a shower, doofus,” Keith said with a smile in his eyes.

“You saying I smell?”

Keith shrugged. “Alright, well, if that’s the impression you want to make on my mother…”

Lance opened his mouth, a retort ready on his tongue, but he paused. “Wait, you want me to meet your mom?”

“I mean…” Keith played with the hem of his shirt. “If you want to come.”

“Keith.”

Keith looked up and met Lance’s eyes.

“Do  _ you  _ want me to come?”

Keith worried his lip between his teeth, and though Lance was tempted to glance down, he resisted the urge, maintaining eye contact.

After a moment, Keith nodded.

“I want you there. You make everything seem less...scary.”

_ I’m tired of being scared _ .

Keith’s words from two days ago echoed in Lance’s head, and there was no other decision to make.

“Okay. Let’s go meet your mom.”

Keith smiled, and it was small, but bright.

“But you still should take a shower. You stink.”

Lance threw another pillow at him.

***

Keith walked into the cafe with his characteristic stomp, scanning the tables for his mother.

Lance could tell the moment he spotted her, because the furrow in his brow was back, Keith’s fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Lance followed his gaze, and it didn’t take long before he understood why Keith froze. 

The woman sitting at the table was the spitting image of Keith--even if he had no idea why they were there, he’d know her in an instant. Everything from her facial structure to her general stature was so familiar, though her coloring was much darker. 

Lance felt Keith reached out and gave his hand a tight squeeze.

He tilted his head down to murmur in Keith’s ear. “If you need me to, I’ll drag you to the table. Or out the door. Whatever you need.”

Keith stayed frozen, keeping Lance’s hand in a death grip. 

“She looks like me,” he whispered. 

“Do you think she’s ever had a mullet?” Lance whispered back.

That was exactly the push Keith needed, apparently, because after a quiet huff of laughter, he moved forward, tugging Lance along after him.

The woman looked up when they approached the table, an awkward smile that Lance realized was exactly like Keith’s tugging at the corner of her mouth, and she stood.

Lance didn’t miss the way she started to reach out, her hands beginning to stretch towards Keith’s face, before she obviously thought better of it and pulled them back in.

“Hi, Keith.”

Her voice was smooth and low, though Lance could hear the emotion threading through it.

“Um.” Keith shifted from foot to foot. “Hi…”

There was an awkward pause, and Lance glanced between them.

“I suppose you should call me Krolia,” she said, giving Keith a self-deprecating smile. “‘Mom’ seems a little too…”

Keith nodded.

Well, Keith clearly had gotten his taciturn habits from his mother, because neither of them were speaking, and the air was laden with tension. And not the kind Lance had come to know from the long, quiet hours in the car with Keith.

“Hi, Krolia,” Lance said, extending a hand to break the pregnant silence. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Lance. Keith’s...friend.”

Lance looked towards Keith at that, and Keith’s smile was barely a flicker, but in his eyes was every moment that got them there. ‘Friends’ seemed insufficient to describe what they were, what they’d become, but it was so much farther than Lance had ever thought they’d be.

Krolia glanced between them with an expression that Lance had definitely seen on Keith, like she was trying to puzzle them out.

_ Well, good luck _ , Lance thought. He’d had a hell of a time trying to figure it out himself.

“I suppose we should sit?” Krolia asked, looking to Keith for permission.

It was a moment before Keith nodded again, and a relieved smile flashed across Krolia’s face once more.

The silence was so palpable that the scrape of the wooden chairs against the floor was deafening. It was clear that Keith and Krolia shared the same proclivity for conversation--meaning that it was up to Lance to make small talk.

As soon as he’d broken the ice, Lance noticed Krolia relax. She asked about the drive, Lance remarked on the weather, the meaningless conversation making what was left unsaid grow louder and louder as Keith sat beside him, simply staring at this woman, this spitting image of himself.

“Would either of you like a coffee? My treat,” Krolia said, nodding towards the busy counter.

Lance elbowed Keith, who could do nothing but nod. 

“I’ll take a latte, and Keith’ll have a plain black coffee,” Lance said. “Thank you.”

Krolia smiled and left to wait in line.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Lance turned to Keith.

“Are you okay?”

The furrow in Keith’s brow deepened. “I think so? Maybe.” 

Lance gave him a look. 

“I don’t know,” he amended.

Lance placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you still want me here?”

“Yes.” Keith’s answer was strong and quick.

“Okay.” Lance nodded. “You let me know if that changes, yeah?”

“I will. Just…” Keith turned the full force of his indigo eyes on Lance. “Please don’t leave me yet.”

Lance squeezed his shoulder and ignored the clenching of his heart. “I won’t.”

Krolia came back a moment later, and Lance let his hand fall as he reached out for his coffee and the pastries she’d thought to buy. 

Keith gripped his mug like it was a lifeline.

The silence was back, but Lance sensed it was different, and he resisted the urge to fill it.

“I’m…” Krolia started before taking a breath--maybe to steel herself, Lance didn’t really know. “I’m really glad you came, Keith. I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

Lance heard the hitch in Keith’s breathing. “I wasn’t sure either. But I’ve always wanted to know about...where I come from.”

“I expected you might. I would have reached out sooner but I didn’t really know how.”

Lance noticed Keith’s white-knucked grip on his mug and settled, as subtly as he could, a comforting hand on his thigh. 

Lance felt some of the tension leave his muscles.

“I have a lot of questions,” Keith said, hitting her with a glare that could melt glass.

Krolia took it in stride, meeting his eyes without fear. “I’ll answer them, as best I can.”

“They won’t be easy.”

“I didn’t think they would be.”

Lance looked between the two of them, neither of them breaking eye contact.

“Okay,” Keith said finally.

“Okay,” Krolia said.

Keith fell silent again, but Lance knew him well enough to spot the telltale shaking in his fingertips, the calculation behind his eyes as he readied himself for what was probably one of the most difficult conversations of his life.

Then Lance slid his eyes to Krolia, watching as she waited patiently for her long-lost son to finally ask her why he was lost in the first place. Lance couldn’t help but admire her for it, admire the way she instinctively knew to give Keith the space he needed to form his first question.

“Why did you give me up?”

Krolia inhaled sharply at the barbed question, but she didn’t seem surprised. In fact, she faced his anger with grace, telling the story in a matter-of-fact way, though Lance didn’t miss the cracks in her voice.

“I was nineteen,” she said. “The first person in my family to go to college, and I’d promised them I’d graduate. I was going to make things better for them--I could barely afford to go, but I did anyway. And then I got pregnant with you. I didn’t have the time, let alone the money to take care of you. But your dad...he was a good man. I knew you’d be okay, that he’d love you in a way even I couldn’t.”

Lance watched Keith’s jaw clench, the muscles in his throat tense as he processed what his mother said.

“He did.”

Krolia tilted her head. “What?”

“He loved me like you couldn’t-- _ didn’t _ .”

Krolia’s face was carefully blank, but the tear that made its way down her cheek was undeniable. 

“I know.”

“Did you love him?”

Krolia gave Keith a sad smile. “I did. I still do. Your father was and always will be the best person I ever knew.”

“Yeah. He really was.”

Keith took Lance’s hand then and squeezed it gently. With that simple gesture, Lance knew he was going to be okay, but this was a conversation he needed to have on his own. 

Lance excused himself, leaving both Keith and Krolia a little teary-eyed as he got up, grabbed his coffee, and stepped outside.

He blinked in the bright light of the Arizona sun and looked around.

The town was small, and admittedly a little run down, with enough of a population to house a kitschy souvenir shop with little alien keychains and saguaro cactus magnets, but not much else.

Still, Lance took it upon himself to explore, not wanting to interrupt Keith and Krolia’s conversation--it was clear they had a lot of catching up to do.

He kicked a rock down the street, trying to ignore the heat radiating from the pavement, until he came to a stop at a bench resting in the shade. 

He plopped down and reached for his phone to text Keith to tell him where he was.

A laugh came unbidden from his throat when he realized that he didn’t have Keith’s number--he’d spite deleted that years ago.

This is what broke him. In a second, his laughter turned into hiccuping sobs.

For a long while, Lance could do nothing but cry. He didn’t think he’d ever cried so hard in his life, but then again, he had a lot of things to cry for.

He cried for Keith--cried because he had seen Keith just a few days ago relive the death of his father, and now he was sitting in front of the woman who was supposed to be his mother, who had left him, who hadn’t spoken to him in twenty-five years. 

He cried for his parents--cried because nearly thirty years of marriage wasn’t enough to repair the damage between them. 

He cried for his siblings, too--cried because they knew how painful it was to overhear the fights and tears, to sit at the dinner table making small talk because anything else would devolve into glares and angry words.

But mostly he cried for himself.

He cried because he had nothing left to hide behind anymore. He didn’t have to stay strong for Keith, because Keith’s journey was done. He’d stay and repair his relationship with his mother and leave Lance to drive on, alone and scared and completely aimless.

He cried because Keith made everything seem less scary, too, made him feel like not knowing his future was okay, that he was significant. He made that stuck feeling, the one that made his skin crawl and itch, the one that made the air feel so stifling--he made that feeling go away, even if just for a moment.

What the fuck was Lance even doing? Running from his problems, hoping that vanishing to the other side of the country would change things. Why did he take that job? For higher pay but a higher cost of living? Why would he expect anything to be different there?

Lance hugged himself tightly, his tears running dry, leaving him to take as deep a breath as his hiccups would allow.

Despite all of this, he had to try. 

Dammit, Lance was  _ proud _ of himself. He was proud of himself for realizing that his life wasn’t the one he wanted, and even prouder for deciding to do something about it. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t really know what he wanted, but goddammit he was going to do whatever it was, go after whatever it was, with conviction.

His breaths evened out, his tears drying rapidly in the Arizona heat.

Lance was proud of himself.

If he said it enough, maybe he’d start to believe it.

***

“Hey.”

Lance looked up to see Keith standing above him, silhouetted by the midday sun, holding a tall styrofoam cup out to him.

“It looks like you might need this.”

Lance reached out and took it, lifting the lid to peer into it.

“What is it?”

“A milkshake,” Keith said, sitting down next to Lance on the bench. “Black and white. That’s your favorite, right?”

It took everything Lance had not to break again right then and there. He stared up into Keith’s kind eyes, his understanding smile.

“I won’t judge you if you cry.”

Lance returned the smile, though it was significantly more watery than Keith’s. It felt so long ago, that conversation on the swings, but every one of Keith’s words had been imprinted on Lance’s mind. 

_ With you, it just feels right. I know you won’t judge me if I cry. _

Lance took a shuddering breath, trying to move past the pit in his stomach as he thought about leaving Keith behind.

“So,” Lance said, taking a long sip of his milkshake, “how’d it go?”

He knew he was stalling. Keith knew it too, but he just smiled indulgently.

“It was...awkward.”

“But…” Lance raised a brow, gesturing for Keith to go on.

“But it was also...I don’t know, kind of nice? It was good to get some answers at least. I don’t think I would have made the same choices she did, and part of me is always going to be mad at her for it...but I get it.”

“Really?”

Keith nodded. “She’s an activist and a lawyer--works for Native American rights. I can’t get completely mad at her for choosing to defend her people.”

Lance blinked.

Keith gave a little laugh. “Yeah, apparently, I’m part Zuni. Was a bit of a shock to me, too.”

Lance toyed with the plastic lid on the cup in his hands, mustering up as much excitement as he could. “That’s amazing, Keith. That’s...great. I’m really happy for you. Really.”

“Lance?” 

Keith placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder, and Lance met his eyes. The furrow was back, and Lance’s heart clenched at the concern he saw there.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s bothering you, or am I really gonna have to guess?”

Lance opened and closed his mouth, trying and failing to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he would even say. That he’d been having a quarter-life crisis right here on a random bench in the middle of Arizona?

“Lance, you can talk to me,” Keith pleaded. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to go.” The words left him in a rush, and though he hadn’t meant to say them in the first place, they opened the floodgates, and everything Lance had been feeling over the past few days--the past few years, if he were being honest--came spilling out of him.

“And I know it’s selfish of me--to want you to stay with me, when you came all this way to see your mom, and you’ve got a life and people who love you, and you want to find out more about your family. But god, Keith, it really does feel right with you. It’s like...it’s like everything in my life feels right because it’s led me to you.”

Tears were spilling down Lance’s cheeks in earnest now.

“And I know there’s probably no such thing as fate or whatever,” Lance continued, “but the fact of the matter is, I’m scared, too. I’m so goddamn scared that I’m going to get out there, to this new job, and realize that nothing’s really changed. That I uprooted my whole life, moved away from my friends and family, everything I’ve ever known, for  _ nothing _ .”

Lance wiped furiously at his face, staring down at the ground. “But you make it all less scary, somehow. And I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to see how much I want you in my life. I don’t want to go because...because that means leaving you behind. And I don’t think I can do that again.”

Lance put his face in his hands and sobbed. He didn’t think he could, after how much crying he’d just done, but trying to stop the flood of tears was like trying to stem the tide.

He felt Keith’s hands tugging gently on his own, pulling them away and tilting his chin so that he was forced to look at Keith.

Keith, who had twin tears staining his own cheeks.

He reached up, cupping Lance’s face in his hands, and wiped away the tears with his thumbs in a gentle caress.

“Lance…”

Keith’s voice was thick with emotion, and Lance braced himself for the hurt he  _ knew _ was coming, that he’d known was coming since that kiss. Though if Lance were a better man, he’d admit to himself that he’d be feeling this way regardless of if he’d kissed him or not.

“Lance, I want to make one thing clear. You don’t need me.”

Lance screwed up his face and tried to turn away. Pain lanced his heart, and it was so much worse than he could have ever imagined.

“No, listen,” Keith said, gripping Lance’s face harder. “You’re so smart and capable, and I know you said you don’t know what you’re doing, but that’s okay, because you’re stubborn enough to make anything work. You don’t need me, because you’ve already got everything you need.”

“Keith, just say it. Tell me to go. I can’t--”

“I’m coming with you.”

Lance’s heart pounded in his chest.

“What?”

“I’m coming with you,” Keith said again. “If you’ll have me.”

“But you just said--”

“Lance,” Keith said, rolling his eyes, though it was without any heat. “I wanted to make it clear that you don’t need me. You’re perfectly able to handle yourself. But I still want to come with you.”

“But why?”

“Why?” Keith laughed brightly. “Lance, I love you, that’s why.”

The blood sang in his veins, and he was sure Keith could feel the heat in his cheeks. “You--what?”

“I’m in love with you,” Keith said. “And I want to see where this goes. Where we go.”

Lance couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. Faintly, he noticed Keith’s thumbs running soothingly across his cheeks, but his mind was still too far away to really appreciate the sensation. “I…but--your mom?”

“Krolia’s not going anywhere. And besides, I don’t think moving in with a total stranger is exactly my move. We need time, more than anything. She and I exchanged numbers, and that’s where I’m going to leave it for now.”

“Oh,” Lance said smartly.

“And she’s the one who told me to go after you,” Keith added. “She thinks we make a good couple, by the way.”

Lance didn’t know he could blush this much, but he was going to blame it on the sunburn he undoubtedly was getting. 

It was too much. There were too many things buzzing around in his head, and the hazy warm feeling that had settled over him was making it hard to think. 

Somehow, though, he managed to speak, asking only one of the many questions he had for this crazy, impulsive, ridiculous boy.

“But...what are you going to  _ do _ ?”

Keith shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what the future holds for me--I’ve never really thought about it that much before. But now I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

Lance reached up and grabbed Keith’s wrists. “You’d really follow me all the way to California?”

Keith gave that wry smile that Lance had come to love so much. “I’ve followed you this far, haven’t I?”

The whole time Lance had known Keith, he had spent so much of it feeling like he was always steps behind Keith, that he was doomed to always be staring at the back of that ridiculous mullet. But there Keith was, smiling up at him, saying that  _ Lance  _ was worth chasing. 

So Lance kissed him.

It was sloppy and off-center, as clumsy as the first time he ever kissed anyone, but Lance wouldn’t trade it for anything, because Keith loved him. He loved him.  _ He loved him _ .

They broke apart, and Keith pressed his forehead to Lance’s.

“I’d follow you anywhere,” he whispered.

And there really wasn’t anything Lance could do except kiss him again.

***

Krolia found them like that, Lance snuggled up against Keith on the bench, happily sipping his milkshake.

“Ah, so you’ve told him, then.”

Lance peered up at Keith and watched a bright smile bloom across his face.

“Yeah, I did.”

“I’m happy for you two, really, but you’re going to get heatstroke if you stay out here for much longer.”

Lance winced, already feeling like his brain was melting in his skull. The feeling had snuck up on him, the dry Arizona heat deceptive in its intensity. 

“Yeah, we should probably go back to the motel,” Keith said, dislodging a sweaty Lance from his side.

Krolia shifted awkwardly on her feet. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with me if you don’t want to pay for another night.”

Lance looked to Keith, ready to follow his lead. 

To his relief, Keith smiled and nodded. “That’d be great. Thanks, Krolia.”

“I’ve only got one guest bed. I trust that shouldn’t be a problem?”

Lance met Keith’s eyes, and they both burst out in laughter.

“Shouldn’t be an issue,” Lance said, leaning his head against Keith’s shoulder.

***

**Day Eight**

The next day, when Lance and Keith climbed into the car, it wasn’t with a sense of finality, even though it was technically their last day on the road. No, instead, it was with a feeling of beginning.

Lance didn’t know what the future would hold, but he knew that as long as he had Keith with him, it didn’t really matter. After all, life’s about the journey, isn’t it?

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a HUGE thank you to everyone who supported me during this whole writing process. An extra special thank you to Laurel aka [phabulousphantom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phabulousphantom/pseuds/phabulousphantom) here on AO3, and Mem aka [seven league boots (memphis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memphis) (also on AO3). You guys have been the most amazing cheerleaders, and I wouldn't have been able to finish this fic if it weren't for you <3
> 
> As always, a big thank you to my betas, Dani and Jenna. I seriously don't know how I write anything without you.
> 
> AND THANK YOU, READER! Whether you've commented on every chapter (you have my sword. seriously), or just hit that kudos button, you've made me so so so happy. I felt like I was posting this fic into the void, so thank you for sticking with me to the end. It means so much to me. Thank you.
> 
> See y'all at the epilogue ;)


	8. Run Away With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue title from Run Away With Me by Carly Rae Jepsen.

**Epilogue-One Year Later**

“We’re lost.”

“We are not lost.”

“This is what happens when I let you drive my car.”

“Lance, we’re  _ not  _ lost.”

“This is it. This is how I die. I should email my boss, tell her I won’t be able to make it for the foreseeable future, because my boyfriend got us lost in the middle of the desert and we got eaten by bears.”

“Bears don’t live in the desert.”

“Fine, coyotes then. Whatever.”

“For the love of god, we’re not lost!”

“ _ You have arrived at your destination _ ,” piped the GPS.

Lance looked out on the great expanse of nothing surrounding them. “Siri, what the  _ fuck _ .”

Keith’s bright laughter filled the car, and soon Lance was joining in.

“I told you we’re lost,” Lance said between peals of laughter.

“Whatever,” Keith said, rolling his eyes and continuing to drive. “Where’s your sense of adventure, anyway?”

“Living with you is adventure enough,” Lance said, biting into a sour gummy worm. “Remember when you made a compost bin and forgot to tell me about it, and then there was an entire ecosystem growing under our sink? That definitely qualifies as an adventure.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“If I’m gonna be stuck in a car with you for the next week, I gotta have something to lord over you.”

“May I remind you that this anniversary road trip was  _ your _ idea.”

Lance shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a romantic.”

Keith snorted, but didn’t really deny it. 

They flew down the desert road, the sounds of Queen playing softly in the background.

***

“Keith. Keith. Keeeeeeeith.”

“What, Lance?”

“Hold out your hand.”

“Why.”

“Just do it. Please?”

Keith sighed but held out his hand, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel and eyes on the road.

“No, your other hand.”

“I swear to god, if you make me do witch fingers--” Keith said, feeling Lance start to slide something on his finger, but he stopped, pulling his hand back to look at the ring Lance had put on him.

It was simple, with one red gem set in the band.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“What is this?”

“An engagement ring, duh.”

“Is there something you want to ask me?”

Lance sat back, a smug look on his face.

“Yeah. Wasn’t that our exit?”

“Shit.”

***

“Hey.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“I’m not going to get married by an Elvis impersonator.”

“It doesn’t have to be Elvis. We can make it classy—like Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner.”

“Las Vegas weddings aren’t ‘classy,’ Lance. If I’m going to marry you, I’m going to do it right.”

“...”

“Lance? Are you--are you crying?”

“I want to be mad at you because you refuse to elope with me, but then you go and say shit like that, and I really can’t be mad.”

“...I didn’t say I refuse.”

“What?”

“You wanna elope? Let’s elope.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah.”

“Woo hoo! Las Vegas here we come!”

“But I’m  _ not _ going to be married by Elvis.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure we can find a Freddie Mercury somewhere.”

“Oh my god, Lance.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“I really, really do.”

***

“Hey, Lance?”

“Yeah, Keith?”

“Can you pass the Cheez-Its?”

“...”

“Lance...did you eat them all?”

“...I plead the fifth?”

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m leaving you in the middle of the desert.”

“Now that you’re my husband, you’ll be the first suspect in my murder investigation.”

“Shit, you’re right. I guess you can stay.”

“Love you, babe.”

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you <3

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: [thetolkiengeek](https://thetolkiengeek.tumblr.com)  
> My twitter: @thetolkiengeek  
> Fic playlist: [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12130135307/playlist/07jKialHhUTbBU9fsdSKQz?si=3sS02pJ3RIerSlTqGBO4ww).


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